Fallen Angel
by Thomas Fitzgibbons
Summary: My first fanfic: A vicious warlord threatens all of Nasr. As the bounty hunters of Arcadia rally to avenge the loss of one of their own, Piastol must reexamine her past and make a choice that will change her life forever. COMPLETE.
1. An Evening at the Smoke & Fire

Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright to Skies of Arcadia or any of its characters.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The massive figure made his way through the streets and back alleys of Sailor's Island, his boots punishing the cobblestones beneath him. He weaved in and out of the shadows, making sure no one was following him while trying to avoid looking suspicious. There were few people out at this hour. The sun was setting, and the few people he did come across gave him one good look before giving him a wide berth.  
  
He was getting closer to his destination; he had gone this way countless times before. He rounded a corner and found himself at the top of a staircase that led down into darkness. He went down without slowing his pace and was soon greeted by a door at the foot of the stairs. There was a sign on the door that said in simple writing: Welcome to the Smoke & Fire. It was a small tavern, and one that was avoided by most people for two reasons: one, it was hard to find and looked rather seedy; and two, the customers there were almost exclusively bounty hunters.  
  
He pushed open the door, and a pretty young waitress smiled at him and welcomed him.  
  
"Good evening, Stryker. What can I get for you?"  
  
"Grilled sardis and Valuan loqua," Stryker answered brusquely. The waitress went to retrieve his order while the bounty hunter took a seat at the bar next to a well-dressed man wearing an elegant sliver eye patch and a waxed goatee. He slumped onto his stool like a man who had just found out that he was dying.  
  
"Evening, Diego," Stryker muttered to the man sitting next to him.  
  
"Going through some tough times, Stryker?" Diego inquired.  
  
"You could say that," Stryker growled. "Just brought someone in."  
  
"And how much was he worth?" Stryker's fist pounded the bar.  
  
"'Bout five times what I got for him!" he barked. He grimaced. "They called this guy the 'Stealer of Hearts.' Know why?" Diego answered that he did not.  
  
"This guy would attack an unarmed ship," Stryker explained, "and kill all of the men. He would take the women aboard his ship, his crew would gang rape them, and then he would cut out their hearts while they were still alive and toss the bodies overboard."  
  
"And what would he do with the hearts?" Diego asked placidly. Stryker's dinner appeared before him.  
  
"Not dinnertime conversation," the younger bounty hunter answered simply. He shook his head. "Honestly, the meanest, most ruthless son of a bitch in the Mid and they only gave me three thousand for him. I'm gonna have to start letting some of my crew go; I can't keep this up much longer."  
  
"If it makes you feel any better, I am facing similar difficulties," the elder man said with a sigh. "Things are tough all over for people like us. Some are starting to leave the business." He took a long sip of his drink. "Emperor Enrique has been pushing for smaller rewards for capturing or killing pirates. He says that he doesn't want people trying to be heroes."  
  
"Pansy," Stryker grumbled. "I think he's soft on pirates just because he knew one."  
  
"Vyse the Legend," chirped up the waitress from behind the bar. "He's the one who saved the world. And, I hear he's quite handsome."  
  
"Don't get your hopes up," Stryker said.  
  
"Oh? And why not?"  
  
Stryker swallowed a piece of fish that he had been chewing. "He's got these two gorgeous women on his crew. They've been with him for years. And he hasn't touched either one of them."  
  
The waitress was quiet for a moment. "Oh I see," she said, deadpan, and turned her attention to wiping down the bar. Both of her customers suppressed their laughter.  
  
A young man of about sixteen years entered from a door on the other side of the tavern.  
  
"They could at least clean the toilets," he muttered as he began eating from a plate that had been sitting next to Diego.  
  
"Ah," the elder bounty hunter said, as though remembering something he had previously forgotten. "Stryker, I would like you to meet my protégé, Esteban. He is, like me, a Valuan noble who realized that there is more to life than going to parties and looking important."  
  
"How do you do?" the young man asked Stryker.  
  
"Could be worse," the bounty hunter responded coolly. "So, you want to be a bounty hunter, do you?"  
  
"Yep," the pupil replied. "I want to make a difference in the world, to bring justice to those who need it, to be a hero."  
  
"Well I gotta hand it to you, kid. I've never seen someone with your enthusiasm for getting into the business. I'd like to shake your hand," Stryker said as he began to slip off the leather gauntlet that covered his left arm up to the bicep. Esteban gregariously took the bounty hunter's left hand and gasped at what he saw. From the elbow down, Stryker's left arm was mechanical. The big man drew back his metal appendage and looked at it almost lovingly.  
  
"It's a beauty, ain't it? Got it about four years ago, trying to be a hero. Let that be a lesson to you kid," Stryker said gravely. "You're not a hero, so don't try to be one. You'll get yourself killed." Esteban nodded dumbly, now harboring a great deal of respect for the man he was talking to.  
  
"I hope you're not attempting to scare my pupil away from the business," Diego laughed. Stryker looked incredulous.  
  
"This coming from a man who's missing an eye?" he countered.  
  
The rest of dinner passed somewhat uneventfully, with Stryker and Diego trading stories, talking about the pirates who were causing the most trouble, and about the alarming number of Blue Rogues who were going bad. Bounty hunters weren't the only ones enduring financial troubles, and more and more Blue Rogues were resorting to desperate measures to survive. One particulary bad example was a man named Jackson who had terrorized defenseless merchant ships in Ixa'taka until Diego put a sword through his chest.  
  
Late in the evening, as the Smoke & Fire was getting ready to close up, Stryker's helmsman burst into the room, clearly distressed by something.  
  
"What is it?" Stryker asked him.  
  
"Captain, I just heard.Hakim's dead." Stryker merely shrugged. Hakim had been a good friend and colleague, but a lot of good friends and colleagues had died fighting pirates.  
  
"Had to happen sooner or later."  
  
"No, Captain, you don't understand. He was murdered in his sleep. It was those guys he was always tangling with, the Red Sands Gang."  
  
This statement brought a shocked silence to the tavern. "No," came a horrified whisper from the waitress.  
  
"Bastards!" Diego shouted, suddenly shattering the quiet. "Hakim was a fighter! He deserved better!"  
  
"He did," Stryker agreed softly. "It just seems like pirates have gotten bolder since Soltis."  
  
"You mean the Battle of Soltis?" Esteban asked. "What does it have to do with what pirates are doing these days?"  
  
"About three years ago, right around the battle of Soltis, Piastol left the business," Stryker explained. He leaned back and sighed. "Piastol.man, she was something. It didn't matter to her what color pirates said they were, if they committed a crime, she killed them right then and there. You could question her methods, but not the results. I tell you, the skies were a lot safer when she was around."  
  
"Why did she leave?" Diego's pupil asked.  
  
"Don't know," Stryker admitted. "You'd have to ask her. Good luck finding her, though." The tavern was quiet again.  
  
"Gentlemen," Diego announced as he raised his glass, "I propose a toast: to our friend and colleague Hakim, the best bounty hunter in Nasr, and to the cause to which he dedicated himself: the freedom of the skies." 


	2. Three Years and Counting

The halls of the school were quiet, save for the gentle singing that drifted through the air. Piastol followed the sound of the music, eventually finding her way to the spacious chamber where the choir was practicing. She always liked this room; there were stained glass windows on both sides, with hardwood floors and a crimson carpet that stretched through the middle leading up to the stage. And on that stage, twenty-four children and their conductor were exercising their voices in perfect harmony. Above them, a clear, circular window allowed sunlight to flow into the room. In the bottom right section of the choir sang Piastol's sister, Maria.  
  
The choir's chamber always had an air of peace and calm to it. No matter what was happening in the world, Maria and her choir would keep singing. All of the crises and hardships that existed had no place here. It was as if they never were.  
  
The conductor, a plump, graying woman, signaled the completion of the song with a flourish of her hand, and the voices of the children faded away.  
  
"Perfect," she chirped. "Alright, that's all for today. Remember, tomorrow is audition day for the solos, so make sure you're here!" The singers quickly departed the stage and happily began chatting amongst themselves. Maria caught sight of her sister and told her friends it was time for her to go home and she would see them tomorrow.  
  
"Hey Piastol!" Maria chimed. "Didja like our singing?"  
  
"I sure did," Piastol answered with a smile. "Do you intend to audition for a solo?"  
  
"I sure do. I think I'll get it, too. The only other alto trying out for one is Illiana, and you know, she's not bad or anything, but I'm definitely better than her." Maria suddenly remembered something and turned around to call out to a boy. "Miguel! Hey, Miguel! I'll see you tomorrow!" The boy named Miguel cupped his hand over his ear. "I said I'll see you tomorrow!" Maria repeated. Miguel nodded, confirming that he had heard her. When Maria turned back around, she was greeted by a sly grin on her big sister's face. Blushing, she protested with an emphatic "I do not!" before Piastol could even ask the question. Her face still red, she walked out of the choir chamber with her still-smiling sister in tow.  
  
~~~~  
  
Piastol and Maria took the rail car down to the dock where the elder sister's boat was moored. The former pirate killer had kept her vessel after she left the business; it offered a means of getting Maria to school while Doc stayed behind to treat his patients. It had once carried the same name as its mistress, the Angel of Death, but Piastol had long ago painted over those words. The boat had no name now.  
  
It was half an hour's trip back to Doc's ship. This had caused quite a few problems with getting Maria to and from school, and Doc was considering moving home and office to Valua City. He had always lived and worked outside the authority of any nation, but with a new emperor and a national health care system, moving back to Valua did not seem as bad as it had been a few years ago.  
  
Piastol sailed through the canyon that served as the entrance to the capital city, with her little sister taking her usual place at the bow and waving to passing ships. There was no longer any Grand Fortress to keep people in or out; it had been destroyed by the Rains of Destruction, and the emperor decreed that there would never be one ever again. Besides, the Empire's funds were more wisely spent on rebuilding itself.  
  
The former bounty hunter watched as her once-lost sister enjoyed the view before her. She looked so happy there, with the wind in her face and hair. It was as though no tragedy had ever befallen her, yet it had. Maria, however, had recovered from her father's death much more quickly than Piastol. Maria was not the one with blood on her hands. There was always a lingering fear in the back of Piastol's mind that, one day, Maria would ask her a question that she did not want to answer. Yet, it was inevitable. Sooner or later, the innocent little child would ask about what Piastol had done while she was missing, or about how she got so good at darts, or how she received the scars on her body. Piastol still had no idea how she would answer such a question.  
  
Doc's clinic-ship came into view as it exited a cloud. It was on that ship that Piastol had spent the last three years. It had felt so satisfying to save lives, rather than end them. Piastol had become such a good nurse that she had even been allowed to help out during surgery. She always averted her eyes from the operation whenever she could, however. It wasn't that she was squeamish-far from it-but because the blood reminded her of the violence that permeated her former life.  
  
Maria caught the rope that Doc tossed her as Piastol guided her vessel next to his. He greeted his young charge in the usual fashion, with a smile and asking her how her day was while helping her onboard. Piastol needed no help reaching the ship; she simply jumped the gap between the two vessels. She no longer needed her old skills, but she liked to keep in shape.  
  
"Oh, Piastol," Doc said. "Could you do me a favor? We're running low on gauze, do you think you could make a quick run to Sailor's Island and pick up a few rolls?" "Of course," Piastol responded. She got the money that she would need, untied her boat, and steered it in the direction of the bustling port.  
  
~~~~  
  
As always, Sailor's Island was loud and crowded. Finding a place to dock took a great deal of patience and persistence, as the harbor was as crowded as the rest of the town. Piastol paid the harbormaster the required fee and moored her craft between two trade cogs. She committed the number of her dock to memory and set out in search of the gauze.  
  
Past the busy sailors, through the gate, and into the main section of town she went, along the way overhearing a couple of merchants saying something about a commotion at the Sailor's Guild. Piastol couldn't discern any of the details, but they mentioned something about "the Ironfist." Ironfist- it couldn't be him, could it? The one-time bounty hunter indulged in her curiosity and hurried on down to the Guild, where shouting was pouring out onto the street.  
  
One of the voices was definitely familiar, but it was muffled by the door. Piastol wasted no time in pulling it open to reveal a large, muscular man yelling down the guild master's throat.  
  
"That's it? Five hundred? I can sell my semen for more than that! I know this isn't the biggest bounty you've got, Smee. Show me something else!"  
  
"Honestly, Stryker, I don't have anything else. If you wait about a lunar cycle, I might find something."  
  
The big man raised a menacing metal claw to the hapless Smee's face. "You better not be lyin' to me, Smee, or so help me-"  
  
"Stryker?" The guild master's tormentor turned around to see the person to whom the familiar voice belonged.  
  
"Piastol?"  
  
~~~~  
  
"I knew you were still alive. People have been telling stories of you," Piastol told Stryker as they ambled down the bustling street.  
  
"Hey, it's gonna take more than a severed limb and a few gunshot wounds to kill me," he returned. "You know, people are still talking about you, too."  
  
"Are they now?" there was a sadness to voice that Stryker couldn't bear to hear.  
  
"So, what have you been up to?"  
  
"I found my sister."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Yes, it is. A friend of my father's was taking care of her. He runs a clinical ship in this region. I have been living with them ever since I found Maria. How has fate treated you?" she asked friend.  
  
"Well, I've got my own ship now, my own crew. We have our home port down in Esparanza; we're in town for supplies."  
  
"That's good. How long will you be staying?"  
  
"Until tomorrow morning. We'll head back to Esparanza and try our luck in Glacia. The colonies there are providing some good pickings for pirates; it seems like a good place to find a bounty." Stryker was quiet for a moment. "Listen, I'd love to catch up. Are you free tonight?"  
  
"Tonight?" Piastol asked. "I believe so. Do you have something in mind?"  
  
"There's an opera being performed at the theater. Fahaj, the Doomed City. I've heard it's pretty good, if you're interested."  
  
"I would enjoy that. I'll meet you at the harbor this evening."  
  
"Great. See you tonight, then," Stryker said, and left to persuade Smee the guild master to cough up some information on pirates-at-large.  
  
Piastol made her way back to the harbor with a smile on her face. It would be nice to spend time with him again, to have a night out on the town with an old friend. She recalled the last time she had ever seen him, covered in blood with his dead comrades surrounding him. . .  
  
"Oh! The gauze!" she remembered aloud, and hurried back to the market to find what had brought her to Sailor's Island in the first place. 


	3. A Legacy of Blood and Tears

Stryker was getting ready for his night on the town with Piastol when his Vice Captain, Cage, appeared.  
  
"Hey, Captain, Diego's here," Cage said. "Says he wants to talk to you." Stryker sighed, annoyed at the interruption.  
  
"All right," the bounty hunter replied. "Just give me a minute." Cage left to deliver the message while Stryker smoothed out the wrinkles in his formal clothing. He guessed that Diego wanted to talk about what had happened to Hakim. It wasn't every day that bounty hunters socialized outside the Smoke & Fire, and it was an even rarer occurrence when a man like Hakim was killed in his sleep.  
  
Diego was waiting for his colleague on the dock where Stryker's ship was moored. He was accompanied by Esteban, and a grave expression had found its way onto his face.  
  
"All right, Diego, what did you want to talk to me about?" Stryker asked of the Valuan noble when he arrived at the scene.  
  
"The Red Sands Gang," Diego answered. "Hakim was Nasr's last line of defense against them. With him gone, they will have their way over there."  
  
"Hakim gave them plenty of crap, but he wasn't Nasr's last hope. Nasr's got a navy now, remember?"  
  
"A navy that is rife with corruption. The Red Sands pays most of the admirals to look the other way. Anyone else usually receives the same fate that Hakim did."  
  
"So?" Stryker had a feeling he knew where Diego was going with this, and it was not a very appealing destination.  
  
"So, we are the only people who are fit to fight the Red Sands," the elder man stated calmly.  
  
"You're kidding, right?" Stryker asked. "You want me to help you take on the Red Sands Gang? All by ourselves? I hope you realize that's suicide."  
  
"Not by ourselves," Diego corrected. "I plan on assembling a fleet to defeat them."  
  
"And you want me to be in it. Fine then, how big is the bounty?"  
  
Diego took a breath and, without changing his expression, gave his colleague an answer he did not want to hear.  
  
"There isn't one."  
  
The big man clenched his fists and restrained himself from throttling the man before him.  
  
"So you're asking me to risk my life and the lives of my crew for nothing?" he demanded.  
  
"Not for nothing," Diego insisted. "I know you didn't come into this business for financial reasons, Stryker. This is a fight for the freedom of the skies. Think about what would happen if no one stood against the Red Sands.  
  
Pirates would get even bolder than they are now. Towns would be invaded and sacked at will. No one would be able to sail or even walk down the street without looking over his shoulder. Chaos would reign and pirates would terrorize the world unopposed. Isn't that why you and I became pirate hunters in the first place? To prevent all that from happening?"  
  
Stryker placed his metal hand over his mouth with his head lowered in thought. The picture Diego painted was unlikely but entirely possible. There was no telling what pirates would do if the Red Sands wasn't stopped. On the other hand, money was getting tight. How could he ask his crew to risk their lives for free?  
  
"You have a point," he said at last, raising his head. "But I can hardly support myself now, let alone my ship and crew. I need gold, Diego. Badly."  
  
"Very well then," the nobleman said, turning to leave. "Think about what I have said. Good day." With that, he and Esteban left to return to their own ship. Stryker shook his head sadly and made his way back to his quarters, but was intercepted by Cage.  
  
"Well?" the vice captain asked. "What did he want to talk about?"  
  
"I'll tell you later," Stryker responded tiredly.  
  
In his room, the bounty hunter finished dressing up, washed his face, and combed his hair. He looked around for his gauntlet and, once he found it, placed it over his artificial arm. Just to be sure, he checked himself in the mirror.  
  
He wanted to look good for Piastol.  
  
~~~~  
  
Piastol put on earrings made of tiny blue moonstones, a black dress, and matching dress shoes. She dabbed her finger in some perfume and put a drop behind each ear. Her hair was let down and combed out of the way of her face. She loved the opera, and she had been hearing wonderful things about the one Stryker was taking her to see.  
  
Maria noticed that her sister had been very excited since she got back from Sailor's Island. When she inquired about what had brought about this sudden change in attitude, Piastol simply and cryptically said that she would be meeting up with an old friend.  
  
"An old BOYfriend?" the little girl inquired with a mischievous grin.  
  
"No," her sister replied patiently. "Just someone I once knew."  
  
"Is he cute?" The grin never left her face. Fortunately, Piastol knew just how to quiet her curious sister.  
  
"Maybe," she answered. "Is Miguel cute?" Now it was her turn to grin.  
  
Maria said nothing, but her face immediately turned a deep red. She mumbled something that sounded like "I don't know" and scurried away. Satisfied, Piastol got onto her boat and prepared to depart. It was then that Doc chose to appear.  
  
"So, big date tonight," he said.  
  
"It is not a date," Piastol responded. "I am just going to the opera with a friend. There is nothing romantic about it."  
  
"Uh huh. So, this friend of yours, he's a bounty hunter, right?" Doc was by no means jealous, but he cared about Piastol the same way he cared about Maria. He looked out for both of them as though they were his own daughters.  
  
"Yes, he is a bounty hunter," Piastol confirmed. "And he will not let any danger befall me or treat me badly."  
  
"I just want to make sure you're going to be okay."  
  
"I know. But I am an adult, Doc. I can take care of myself. I did so for years, remember?" She gave her friend a reassuring smile.  
  
"All right then," Doc relented. "Have fun."  
  
He watched as Piastol freed her boat of his ship and sail off to Sailor's Island, to her old friend and, hopefully, the last step in her rehabilitation from a lonely, violent life.  
  
~~~~  
  
The sun was setting, and a soft breeze stirred the air. The birds were circling, looking for a piece of discarded food to satisfy their hunger. Stryker wasn't the only well dressed person at the harbor; a lot of people had come to see the opera. He had made a quick run to the theater to get tickets before Piastol arrived. Being short on gold, he couldn't afford balcony seats, and had to make do with seats that were within his price range.  
  
He waited patiently by the gates for his friend to appear. Every moment that passed, his mind would change trains of thought. He would consider Diego's proposal one minute and wonder what Piastol was doing the next. Then he would try to think of a way to improve his financial situation, wonder if any nation was not trying to discourage bounty hunting. . .  
  
Then he saw her walking daintily toward him, looking as beautiful as the stars themselves. He had been a little nervous while waiting for her, but now that she was here, he felt relaxed, almost as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  
  
"Good evening," he greeted her.  
  
"Good evening to you, too," Piastol said. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Oh yeah. I've got the tickets and everything."  
  
They walked to the theater together, both silently afraid that the other had romantic plans for the evening. Sailor's Island was calmer in the evening than during earlier hours, but a few hours after dark the port was once again busy with the nightlife. The taverns would get loud again and the younger generation would peruse the shops, looking to lighten their purses. The shopkeepers were more than glad to assist them in reaching this goal.  
  
The theater at Sailor's Island was a large, ornate building with a decorated sign by the door that announced to all passersby what shows were being performed there. Tonight, it announced the performance of "Fahaj, the Doomed City." The opera was written by two of the most famous composers in Valua and Nasr, and featured the legendary Valuan baritone Hidalgo.  
  
Stryker gave the usher their tickets as he and Piastol passed through the doorway. Their seats were located in the very center of the audience. They took them and waited a few minutes until the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.  
  
A lone figure, a young woman, stood in the center of the stage, illuminated in the dark by a blue light. An awed hush fell over the theater as she began singing sadly about how her home had been destroyed by hatred and greed.  
  
The stage grew light as the scene shifted to a city in the desert. The chorus appeared and began a lively number about how their city, Fahaj, had been founded between Valua and Nasr and was populated by people from both countries. The characters were introduced one by one: a baritone clown (played excellently by Hidalgo), a greedy innkeeper, the town's mayor, a single mother and her children, an orphan boy who kept being "misunderstood by the law," and the town's chief policeman.  
  
The events of the story took place at the outbreak of the Valua-Nasr War. The subplots of each of the characters were introduced one by one, as well as how they were impacted by the war. The clown was dying of a strange illness but did not let anyone know about it because it was his job to make people laugh, and they would not do that if they knew he was sick. The innkeeper sang an energetic and funny song of how he bilked his guests out of their money by charging them for everything from mice to rain.  
  
At the end of the opera, Fahaj was utterly destroyed in a battle between Valuan and Nasrean war fleets. The clown finally succumbed to his illness and died, the police chief died saving the orphan boy, and the innkeeper realized that the way he treated his guests was wrong. The young woman appeared once again on the darkened stage and in the blue light, singing to the audience that the survivors of Fahaj were refugees now. She was then joined on the stage by the rest of the cast (at least those who were still alive), who broke into an uplifting closing number about how they were still alive and would build a new home where Valuans and Nasreans could live together in peace and happiness.  
  
The curtain fell, the cast bowed, and the audience stood up in their seats and cheered. Stryker and Piastol joined in as enthusiastically as anyone else, deeply moved by the story. Both were getting hungry now, and looked around town for a restaurant. They finally decided on a small, quiet place where it would be easy to talk to each other.  
  
They reminisced about old times, told stories about what they had been doing for the past four years, and otherwise enjoyed each other's company. The food was good and filling, two things all dishes should be. When they had finished, they went for a walk along the edge of the island, where couples usually went to talk. They stopped at a corner to admire the view. It was then that Stryker broke the news about the situation bounty hunters were facing.  
  
"Bounties are getting smaller every day," he began. "A lot of bounty hunters are leaving the business; they just can't support themselves anymore. And I think I might be one of them."  
  
"So I've heard," Piastol said. A glance at Stryker's eyes told her that there was something else bothering him. "There's more to it than that, isn't there?" she inquired.  
  
"Hakim is dead," he told Piastol. "He was murdered in his sleep." Piastol's reaction was similar to his own when he first heard the news.  
  
"In his sleep?" the one-time pirate hunter asked in a horrified whisper. "Who did it?"  
  
"The Red Sands Gang," Stryker answered. "They're a bunch of pirates that have been causing trouble in Nasr lately. At first they were just a nuisance, but now they're a real threat." He sighed and told his friend of Diego's plan. He didn't know how she would react to this, but he hoped that she might give him some advice. She did not.  
  
"You're not actually thinking of taking part in this, are you?"  
  
"Of course I'm thinking about it. Bottom line, someone's got to stop these people."  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" she demanded.  
  
"Piastol, why did you become a bounty hunter?"  
  
"I was depressed and had little or no reason to live. I was looking for someone to put me out of my misery."  
  
"Fine. Why did you think you became a bounty hunter?"  
  
Piastol was quiet for a moment.  
  
"I wanted to stop pirates from destroying people's lives like they destroyed mine," she said finally. "But Stryker, do you have any idea how many people I killed? How many lives I destroyed myself?"  
  
"How many lives do you think the people you killed ruined?" Stryker countered. "Yeah, you killed a lot of people. But those people were murderers and thieves. The world is better off without them."  
  
"Are you implying that I was doing what was right?"  
  
"I'm not implying it, I'm saying it. Because of you, the skies were a lot safer."  
  
"You don't know that for sure. And besides that, I have found what I thought was lost forever. I found my sister. And not a day passes that I do not fear that she will ask me what I was doing with my life." Piastol calmed down a little. "I am ashamed of what I was," she said. "I was living for the wrong reasons. Now I have found the right ones."  
  
"You were living for the wrong reasons," Stryker admitted, "but you were fighting for the right ones." He and his friend were silent for a long time. "See you around," he said, breaking the silence. "Stay out of trouble." With that, he walked away, back to his ship, leaving Piastol at the corner.  
  
She stood there for a long time, thinking about what had just happened. She didn't remember going back to her boat, but somehow she got there, and sailed back to Doc's ship in a daze.  
  
Piastol found herself back in her room on the clinic-ship and opened a trunk that she always kept locked. Inside it was the scythe upon which countless pirates had died. She tentatively picked it up and felt a surge of energy and power that she had not felt in years. She absently twirled it in the air, remembering all of the technique needed to use the weapon.  
  
Block the enemy's sword, catch it with the blade, and send it flying through the air. A swift kick to the midsection sends the pirate to the ground, unarmed and helpless, just like all the people he murdered in the name of greed. Slowly raise the scythe and let the pirate's fear grow. Savor the moment, the last few seconds before the kill. . .  
  
Piastol gasped and threw the weapon across the room, falling to her knees and covering her eyes with her hands to hide her tears.  
  
"Piastol?" The waiflike voice came from the door. Maria was there, wondering what was wrong with her big sister. Wordlessly, Piastol walked over to her and embraced her. Maria didn't know what this was about, but she knew that whenever her sister got like this, it was best just to hug her back.  
  
The former pirate killer silently vowed that she would never again become the Angel of Death, never take another life.  
  
For Maria's sake. 


	4. The Patriarch

The day was bright and clear, and, like all days in the Lands of Ice, unbearably, damnably cold. The wind didn't help much, either. Capricious and unpredictable, it came when it would cause the most trouble and disappeared when it was most needed. Some people said that the South Ocean was the world's most difficult place to sail. Those people had never tried sailing through Glacia.  
  
Jacob would not give up, however. He had come too far to let a bounty this big just get away. Besides, he had a reputation to protect. In the thirty years he had spent as a bounty hunter, not one of his quarries had escaped him. In thirty years, he had thirty-six captures and nine kills. No other bounty hunter in the world even came close to having a record like that. He was the best. He was invincible. He was Jacob.  
  
Jacob loved his job, so much that he never even considered settling down and starting a family. So many young sailors had come under his wing and looked up to him like a father, but they were never really his children. Always the father figure, never the father. That, it seemed, was the fate to which he was doomed. Not that it bothered him, though. He was perfectly happy where he was, as he was.  
  
The years had been kind to him; his hair was only now beginning to gray, and his wrinkles were virtually unnoticeable. He was over fifty, but he didn't look a day over forty. Considering the harshness of the sky farer's life, that was a miracle.  
  
It was also a miracle that he could still feed himself. The dwindling prices on pirates' heads had hit him as hard as it hit anyone else, and that was what brought him to these frozen wastelands in the first place. Some lunatic in a pink ship had knocked over the famous Gordo's Bistro, stealing all the food and gold they could get their hands on. Gordo was so enraged that he was offering twelve thousand gold pieces to anyone who brought the thief back alive.  
  
Jacob had been one of the first people to catch wind of this, and without delay set about tracking down the thief. His search of three weeks had finally led him to the lands under the purple moon. Soon, very soon now, his financial troubles would be given a rest. It was only temporary relief, but right now, any sort of relief was welcome.  
  
"There's a ship off the port bow!" came a cry from the lookout. Jacob and his crew held their breaths in anticipation as the lookout strained his eyes to discern greater detail about the strange vessel. "It's got a heart on the main sail, and. . . It's pink! We found them, Captain!" A cheer rose from Jacob's crew.  
  
"All right, everyone, battle stations!" the captain ordered. "It's time to go to work!"  
  
"Work?" his gunner asked. "Are you kidding? This is the most fun we've had in weeks! I just hope they don't give up too soon!" He laughed.  
  
The cannons were loaded, the side arms were readied, and Jacob's vessel, the good ship Old Glory, surged toward her target. The bounty hunters maneuvered behind the pink ship and put themselves between the enemy's sails and the source of the wind. It was a fairly basic pursuit tactic, known as "stealing the wind." With the Old Glory keeping the air out of the pink ship's sails, all the enemy had for propulsion was the jets holding the ship aloft. That wouldn't be enough to escape the bounty hunters.  
  
The quarry grew ever closer to being within range of the Old Glory's weapons, so much so that Jacob could see the pink ship's crew running around on deck, trying to find a way to shake their pursuers. Such efforts were virtually futile, however, as the crew of the Old Glory were far too experienced. They knew every trick in the book, having countered and used them all. Nothing the pirates could do was capable of surprising them.  
  
Oh, but how the pink ship tried to run. The best move they could make would be to turn hard in any direction and get the bounty hunters in their line of fire, and that was exactly what they did. The Old Glory parried by going into a steep climb and mirroring the enemy's turn. Now came the grappling hooks.  
  
Four such hooks fell to the pirate ship, and each one found a hold there. Jacob's cheering raiders made their way down the ropes with weapons in hand, eager to do what they did best: forcing pirates to surrender. The pirates in question, however, were not about to go quietly back to face their punishment. They brought their ship up to the Old Glory's altitude while deckhands desperately hacked away at the ropes securing the grappling hooks. Once they were free, they turned hard and made a break for it. Their first mistake had been neglecting to fire their cannons. The second was presenting their stern to the Old Glory's starboard line of fire.  
  
Jacob's gunner fired four shots at the enemy. One slammed into a very unfortunate rudder, one bounce and skidded across the pink ship's deck before speeding harmlessly over the rail of the bow, and two found their mark, making a new home for themselves inside the sternward hull. Somehow, Jacob's quarry was still flying. Their engines, it seemed, had not been damaged by the initial barrage.  
  
"Give chase, men!" the captain of the bounty hunters roared. "They won't get away that easily!" And give chase they did. There was no way they were going to come all this way, to this frozen piece of Hell, just to go home empty-handed.  
  
The Old Glory once again attempted to steal the enemy's wind, thwarted again and again as the pirates bobbed and weaved through the air, desperate to keep their sails filled with air. The battle was going nowhere; the two combatants would be at this all day. Unless. . .  
  
"Dive," Jacob commanded his helmsman. "Let's see what we can do to their jets." The helmsman did as he was told, and sent Old Glory down until she was level with the pink ship, making sure it was on the port side where the cannons were still loaded, at which point the pirates realized what their attackers were doing and climbed upward as fast as they could. In the split second when Jacob's gunner had a clear shot at the enemy's bottom hull, Old Glory roared, and the pink pirate ship slowly began to descend. White flags were being waved by some of the pirates. Jacob and his crew let loose a wild cheer. They had won.  
  
"My name is Jacob. I am captain of the Old Glory," he told the beaten pirates. All of whom, he noticed, were women. That was a rare sight if there ever was one. It wasn't unheard of, but still, he had never actually seen an all-woman crew. "Let me talk to your captain."  
  
The captain appeared soon enough, looking very upset.  
  
"All right, I'm here," she said. "Now why are you blowing holes in my ship?"  
  
"There is a price on your head," Jacob explained. "It was placed by Gordo the Round, owner of Gordo's Bistro. You really made him mad, it seems."  
  
"Gordo!?" the pirate exclaimed incredulously. "Why that double-crossing. . . I know him, for moons' sakes! After we fought together, he just up and sends bounty hunters after me!? I swear, when I see him again, I'm going to put my foot up his ass!"  
  
"You can see him again very soon, Ma'am," Jacob said. "If you come with us peacefully, we will leave your ship and crew in peace. If you choose to continue resisting us, we will bombard you and your ship until it is destroyed."  
  
"All right, all right, I'm coming," the pirate replied. "You just promise to leave my crew alone."  
  
Jacob promised to do so.  
  
"Good. Now take me back to Gordo; I want to give that back-stabber a piece of my mind!"  
  
~~~~  
  
The stolen food was taken along with the pirate captain, while her crewwomen were left to repair their ship. Jacob ordered that three weeks' supply of food left with the pirates. He wasn't just going to let them starve to death.  
  
The pirate captain, whose name turned out to be Clara, muttered to herself all the way to the brig, where captured pirates were kept until they were handed over to the authorities or whoever put a price on their head. It was a plain room, with just enough space to keep prisoners from going stark raving mad. A bed, a toilet, and a window were all that furnished the cell. Clara hated it.  
  
"Would you mind at least letting me decorate this place?" she grumbled. "I'll go crazy here."  
  
"I wouldn't worry about that," Jacob assured her. He smiled. "Only half of our pirates actually go insane."  
  
"Hardy har har," Clara retorted. "I didn't really rob Gordo, you know," she added as the bounty hunter closed the bars of the cell behind her. Jacob pretended not to listen.  
  
"You'll be staying here for the remainder of the trip," he informed her. "We usually treat the ones who come willingly better than the others, provided they behave. Your dinner will come in a few hours."  
  
"Thank you," she said without meaning it. "Now, exactly how long will I be here?"  
  
"We will reach Gordo's Bistro in five days," he answered. "And if you behave yourself, the ship may suddenly put on a burst of speed to shorten that time period."  
  
"Oh, before you leave, can you tell me how much I'm worth?"  
  
"Twelve thousand."  
  
"Twelve thousand? But I. . . Oh, that son of a bitch, I'm going to hurt him."  
  
Jacob didn't know what she was talking about, nor did he care. With the money Clara would bring in, he and his crew could finally save themselves from bankruptcy. He left for the bridge upstairs and let the pirate mutter to herself in the cell. He allowed himself a grin. In thirty years, no quarry had ever escaped him, and that record still stood.  
  
~~~~  
  
The Old Glory's crew and captain celebrated the whole way to Gordo's Bistro. Congratulations were lavished upon the gunner for the precision shot that disabled the pirates' ship. The hero of the battle would respond by going on for hours about the difficulties and subtleties of his profession, and how that shot was the most difficult he had ever made. When he was alone with Jacob, however, he admitted that he simply blasted away blindly when he saw that the enemy was trying to escape the attack. Jacob decided not to tell the rest of the crew of this.  
  
Clara was quiet throughout the voyage and appreciative when her food was brought and, true to Jacob's word, the Old Glory reached her destination in less than five days. There was one troubling matter, however. Clara had said that she didn't rob Gordo. If she had been the type to lie, she would have returned the bounty hunters' fire when she had the opportunity.  
  
The pirate was a little surprised when Jacob showed up to talk to her in person.  
  
"What happened?" he asked.  
  
"What do you mean?" she returned curiously.  
  
"You said that you didn't rob Gordo. If you didn't, then what really happened between you two?"  
  
"Well," she began, "Gordo and I know each other, you see? We fought at the Battle of Soltis. So when my crew and I got low on food, we went to go see him and ask if he could sell us some. He agreed to give us some very rare stuff, Hamhai fish. Have you heard of them? Anyway, he charged us twenty- two thousand for it and sent us on our way. A few weeks later, you people show up, and here I am on my way to give Gordo a really hard time."  
  
So that was Gordo's game. He would sell some food to someone for an exorbitant amount, put a price on the buyer's head for less than what they spent, and make a large profit without having to worry about restocking his supplies. Unfortunately for him, Jacob had just discovered his little scheme, and had an idea of how to teach the restaurateur a lesson.  
  
~~~~  
  
"This is a great day," Gordo said to himself as he approached the dock where the bounty hunter awaited him. His plan had worked perfectly, and no one was the wiser! He suppressed a chortle as he spoke to the man who had captured Clara.  
  
"Thank you for catching the thief and returning what was stolen from me," he said with sincere gratitude. "Your deed will not go unrecognized, and it is my pleasure to reward you-"  
  
"I will accept no less than twenty-five thousand gold pieces," Jacob interrupted.  
  
"-with twelve- YOU WHAT!?"  
  
"I am demanding twenty-five thousand gold pieces as payment. A piece less, and the pirate goes free with all of your stolen food," the bounty hunter repeated placidly.  
  
Gordo was moving his mouth and making noises, but was too shocked to form any actual words. If he agreed to the demand, he would lose three thousand gold pieces. If he didn't, he would never be able to pull this scheme again. It took a good long while, but the "reformed" Black Pirate reached a decision.  
  
"Very well," he growled through clenched teeth. "Twenty-five thousand it is."  
  
"Excellent," Jacob replied. "The pirate will be released into your care along with the food. I'll expect the gold in two hours."  
  
Clara was handed over to Gordo and attempted to throttle him, a load of crates labeled "Hamhai Fish" were taken to the bistro's stockroom, and Jacob and his men were richer by a wide margin.  
  
"Do you think he knows the crates are empty?" wondered the Old Glory's helmsman as the ship went on its way.  
  
"By now he does," the engineer answered with a grin. "And he'll never see that food again. Jacob dropped it off on an island and gave Clara the coordinates. We're the only ones who know where it is now. Oh, Captain!" he said as Jacob passed by. "While I was in the bistro, someone gave me this letter and told me to give it to you." He handed his captain the item in question.  
  
Jacob thanked the man and proceeded to open the letter. His expression changed from one of curiosity to one of severe graveness.  
  
"How long until we need to re-supply at the home port?" he inquired.  
  
"We've got at least eight weeks left," the engineer answered. "Why?"  
  
"Turn the ship southeast," Jacob ordered his helmsman. "We're going to Nasr." 


	5. A Shot in the Dark

All over the world, Diego's colleagues were receiving his messages. He informed them of Hakim's death, the Red Sands Gang, and the state of the Nasrean Navy. Each letter the nobleman sent ended with a request for assistance in fighting the Red Sands, for the pirates had assembled their own fleet, a menace twenty ships strong. Diego would need allies- -allies who wouldn't mind risking their lives for free.  
  
Unfortunately, the financial situation of bounty hunters caused many to disregard such a request. Who could blame them? Being able to feed oneself was now the top priority of many who sailed the skies, and no reward was being offered for the defeat of the Red Sands.  
  
Not one to be undone so easily, Diego searched for aid from a group of unlikely allies: pirates. Specifically, he wrote letters to a number of Blue Rogues who he hoped would be willing to help a man who specialized in hunting them down. A few actually agreed to his request. A Nasrean named Khazim and an old man who went by the name of Centime pledged their ships and lives to the cause of stopping the Red Sands.  
  
The bounty hunters who answered the call to arms included a Yafutoman called Ryujin, a group of Ixa'takans who had come to prove that they could stand alongside other powers of the world, and the famous Jacob- -the Patriarch, as many called him. More were arriving at Diego's makeshift headquarters in Nasrad by the day. So far, he had eight ships. That wasn't nearly enough.  
  
~~~~  
  
Esteban was bored, for the most part. He knew that when the time for battle came it would be fierce and scary as Hell and that he should cherish this moment of peace, but he was still bored. The only time something interesting happened was when someone new came into town to fight the Red Sands, and that didn't happen very often anymore.  
  
The young man of sixteen (almost seventeen) spent his days wandering around the streets and bazaars of Nasrad. The scars of the Armada's vicious attack three years ago still showed. Every now and then, Esteban would pass by a building with a scorch mark or hole in its side or a pile of rubble that looked for all the world like a building graveyard. Skeletons were also seen, some in more than one piece.  
  
Areas where such sights could be found were avoided, as much for the disturbing images as for the shady denizens the areas harbored. They were places where law enforcement was not very visible and perfect for black market salesmen and thieves. The whole atmosphere was a disturbing one for someone who had lived most of his life in clean, safe neighborhoods of noble privilege.  
  
Esteban had walked the streets so many times, and for so long, that he knew all of the businesses and their locations by heart. He could walk into a tavern and know exactly where to find a Sailor's Guild office nearby. It was frustrating, really. Within a few days, he had run out of places to explore, and exploring was all he had left to do besides practice his sword skills. And even that got tedious after a while.  
  
What he needed was some action, something to test his skills and provide a little excitement. He had no idea where to find it, however.  
  
"Listen, have you heard any rumors of ancient ruins or thieves preparing a big heist?" the bounty hunter-in-training inquired of a bartender. He would have asked this over a glass of loqua, but the new Nasrean government had set age restrictions on consumption of the drink. Bastards.  
  
"No," the bartender replied casually. "Things are pretty quiet, since no one goes exploring in the desert anymore. The Red Sands, you know. People are too scared to go anywhere in Nasr."  
  
"Right. So no rumors at all? Not even someone famous coming to town?"  
  
"Nope. Everything's pretty quiet around here. It's a welcome change, if you ask me."  
  
"I see," Esteban said with a nod of his head. "So, is there anything fun to do around here at all?"  
  
"Not if by 'fun' you mean adventurous." The bartender thought for a moment. "If you're really bored, you could visit one of the harems." He smiled and leaned in closer. "There's this one place where you can take as many as you want, and it won't even cost you extra."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh yeah. They even serve snacks there." The bartender leaned back smiled a little wider. Then he noticed the age of the customer asking him these questions, and the smile disappeared. "But, uh, you should stay away from those places," he added quickly. "There's some, uh, unscrupulous people there."  
  
"You mean the kind of unscrupulous people who would tell a kid to go get himself a whore? Thanks, I figured that out for myself." Esteban left without another word, secretly wondering if he would get kicked out of a harem on account of his age. There was only one way to find out. . .  
  
"Esteban!" someone shouted as he stepped out of the tavern. It was one of Diego's crewmen, a man Esteban knew as Rico.  
  
"Yeah, Rico, what is it?" the young man asked as his crewmate approached him.  
  
"There's going to be a meeting tonight of the captains in the fleet," Rico explained. "The captain wants us to keep guard."  
  
"Well, I guess that's a little interesting," Esteban commented. "Listen, Rico, do you know if harems have age restrictions?"  
  
~~~~  
  
The meeting inside the house where it was taking place was probably interesting enough, but standing guard outside it was quite dull. Esteban kept himself occupied by walking around the house and pretending that at any moment Rico would sound the alarm and Esteban would have to fight off an assassin. That was entertaining for all of five minutes.  
  
The only interesting thing that happened today was the young man's discovering that harems did, in fact, have age restrictions. He walked into one at Rico's suggestion, and was promptly (and roughly) escorted out by the bouncer. He never knew that harems had bouncers, but it made sense: a violent customer had to be dealt with somehow.  
  
It was probably for the best, Esteban decided, that he wasn't allowed there. It would be better for his first time to be with a girl with whom he had actually formed some sort of emotional connection. But would he have reached that same conclusion, he wondered, if his trip to the harem had ended differently?  
  
The monotony of guard duty might not be quite so excruciating if the guards knew what the captains were talking about. It couldn't hurt to, say, put one's ear by the door and eavesdrop, could it?  
  
"We found their base," Centime was telling the others. His voice was muffled by the door. "It's about fifty leagues east of Cape Victory. Security is pretty tight there; we weren't able to get a very good look."  
  
"How many ships did you see?" inquired one of the bounty hunters.  
  
"About five or six were patrolling the area," Centime replied. "There were at least five more docked there."  
  
"Judging from the reports from the people around here, they have twenty ships at least," remarked Diego.  
  
"We will need more than what we have to fight these people," someone said. It was that Yafutoman; what was his name? Ah yes. Ryujin.  
  
"Thank you, I am well aware of that," Diego returned. "Right now, our best course of action is to hunt down as many enemy ships as we can and destroy them. The Red Sands will eventually retaliate, but they will have to do so with a smaller fleet."  
  
Finally! Esteban was beginning to worry that he might never get to sail again. At last he would get a chance to see what he was made of; at last he would see battle.  
  
"Right, then, I guess that's all," Diego concluded. "Centime, did you find anything else out about the enemy?"  
  
"I sure did," the pirate answered gravely. "I found out why so many Blue Rogues are refusing to come: the leader of the Red Sands is a man called Zahn. He used to be a Blue Rogue himself, and a friend of Vyse the Legend as well."  
  
"Are you sure?" Esteban did not recognize this voice.  
  
"I'm positive. All of his ships were flying his flag; I'd never forget it."  
  
"It wouldn't take much for a pirate to start doing something like this," said the Yafutoman, with noticeable scorn in his voice.  
  
"The word 'pirate' doesn't really describe this guy anymore," remarked the man called Jacob. "I think 'warlord' is a much more accurate term now."  
  
Esteban took his ear from the door and thought about what had just been said. He had heard that a lot of Blue Rogues were going bad, but he never imagined that anyone would do something on this scale. This Zahn person wasn't just going after a few unarmed ships for lack of a Valuan Armada to bother; he was threatening an entire country. This was- -wait, was there someone pointing a rifle at the meeting house?  
  
Yes, there most certainly was. This was not a figment of an over-active imagination; a sniper was actually on the roof of the adjacent building taking aim at the captains. Esteban shouted an alarm, but did so too late: the sniper fired his shot, and the sound of breaking glass and a shout from within the house pierced the night.  
  
Without a second thought, Esteban and Rico took off, following the assassin as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop to flee the scene. The chase led the companions to a flight of stairs which went up to the roofs of Nasrad, a level which was essentially the second story of the city. Hurrying up to their quarry's level, they dove into a gap between two shops to avoid the shot that was fired at them. Esteban felt fine, but Rico was growling in pain.  
  
"Rico, are you alright?" was the frantic question.  
  
"Bastard got me in the leg," Rico responded. "Well, what the hell are you doing? Go get him!"  
  
"Right," Esteban said, and ran after the sniper. Rather than fight the young man, the assassin made a break for it, racing into the night with Esteban closing in on him.  
  
Neither party knew how long the chase lasted. One moment they would be on rooftops, the next moment in an empty street. More than once they passed through an area with a few onlookers; Esteban recognized them as the places he avoided during the day. Still, he refused to give up. Once or twice he came within a few inches of catching his prey before the assassin made a sharp turn around a corner, and the hunt continued.  
  
All of the exploring that Esteban had done during his stay in Nasrad paid off. He always knew exactly where the chase was leading him, whether it was a bazaar or a plaza or a park. The sniper had nothing on him and ran blindly into whatever places looked darkest. When it seemed that he was turning a corner into a dark street where he could finally lose the young man chasing him, however, he found himself in an alley with no way out. He was trapped, and with Esteban close behind him. The bounty hunter-in- training smiled, believing himself to have won. Then he remembered that his enemy had a gun.  
  
The spy wheeled around and fired at his pursuer the moment he had a clear shot. Esteban barely managed to avoid the bullet and ducked behind a corner. Suddenly possessing the upper hand, the assassin charged around the corner, shoved the muzzle end of his weapon into Esteban's face, and squeezed the trigger. Both adversaries were surprised when nothing happened.  
  
Reacting quickly, the young man knocked the gun away and sent his fist into his attacker's face. He regretted it immediately, and clutched his hand in pain. He felt his neck experience a similar pain as the sniper pushed him against the wall, holding him there with the rifle braced against his neck.  
  
There was one move that could save him, but Esteban had always thought of it as cowardly and dishonorable. But at the end of that evening at the Smoke & Fire, Stryker had given him some parting advice on combat: "Fighting dirty will keep you alive, kid," he had said. And the move Esteban was thinking of certainly struck him as fighting dirty.  
  
Swallowing his pride, the young noble swung his leg up between his enemy's legs and was rewarded by the most amusing expression appearing on his face. The assassin loosened his grip on the gun as his voice raised an octave and bent over, momentarily incapacitated. Esteban wasted no time at all in slapping the rifle out of his enemy's hands at pummeling his surprisingly soft stomach with a flurry of punches. Body blows were the way to go, the noble decided.  
  
Not to be undone so easily, the sniper pulled a knife from its sheath and swung wildly at his opponent, who dodged each swing before drawing his rapier and going on the offensive. Esteban drove the sniper back against a wall and calmly placed the tip on his throat. He wasn't expecting the assassin to knock his weapon away with the knife, and certainly not expecting to get hit in the head with a fist. Temporarily stunned, he struggled to get an understanding of what was happening and felt something cold and sharp pierce his side.  
  
Esteban dropped his rapier and grunted at the pain, feeling the blade exit his body as his attacker ran to the discarded rifle and dropped his knife to put a bullet into the gun. The young man rolled painfully out of the way, trying to get close enough to the assassin so that he couldn't fire a bullet. The assassin, however, continually moved away from him, attempting to get a good shot at his target. Esteban jumped and zigzagged around the alley, denying his enemy a chance to kill him. Eventually, the pain in his side sent him doubled over to the ground, where his hand found its way onto the forgotten knife.  
  
Almost in slow motion, the young noble saw the sniper level the rifle at him. Without thinking, he grabbed the knife by the blade and hurled it at the enemy.  
  
"Shit," the assassin gagged, and collapsed onto the ground with the knife protruding from the left side of his chest. Finally help arrived, in the form of an armed Diego and a few of the bounty hunters.  
  
"Are you alright?" was the first question Esteban's mentor asked.  
  
"He got me in the side," the protégé answered. "I'm okay, though, I'm just going to pass out. Did anyone get killed?"  
  
"Centime took the shot in the arm, but he'll be fine." Diego sighed as he looked over at the fallen sniper. "I suppose we won't be able to interrogate him now. Then again, I think we all know who he was working for. Say, I never knew you could throw a knife like that"  
  
"Neither did I," Esteban replied. In the last moment before unconsciousness took him, he glanced at his enemy one last time. Holy crap, he thought, I just killed someone. 


	6. Hidden Paths

Esperanza had never been a great city. After the Valua-Nasr war, people came from all over to try and brave the Dark Rift, but only a few people came and even fewer made it out of the rift. As more lives were lost to the Dark Rift, fewer people started to come. Soon, no one came at all. Esperanza was quickly disowned and forgotten by the Empire, the same power that had once hoped to capitalize on the glory that would be brought by the first person to brave the Dark Rift. The City of Adventure became known as the City of Lost Dreams.  
  
Three years ago, the city's fortunes began to change. Someone not only made it through the Dark Rift, but proved that the world was round and discovered a new continent in the process. Suddenly, the spirit of adventure was reborn; sailors flocked to see the place where the monumental voyage had begun. Now, the township in the Red Ocean was well and truly on its feet again. The economy had been resurrected, the slums transformed into decent living districts, and residents were once more willing to consider themselves citizens of the Valuan Empire. A new fleet had been levied to maintain order in the Red Ocean. Of course, they had a tendency to look the other way when pirates called themselves Blue Rogues--a fact Stryker reflected on as his ship, the Dragonfly, entered the harbor.  
  
The bounty hunter had a space reserved for his ship, but the rent for it was becoming harder to pay every month. The harbormaster never let him forget this, and would drop by Stryker's office from time to time so that he could announce an increase in the cost of maintaining the dock. Such an announcement was usually followed by the words "get the hell out of my office." Nonetheless, the harbormaster was always raising the rent on docks for everyone and weaseling his way out of an official imperial investigation. The bastard reportedly had ties to an influential family in Valua, thus explaining how he was able to avoid going to jail.  
  
For now, though, Stryker had bigger problems. He still hadn't told his crew about Diego's insane crusade, and he had no idea how he would do so. After agonizing over the issue all the way from Sailor's Island, the bounty hunter decided to call a meeting at Esperanza and inform them then. He wasn't expecting a very positive reaction, what with the financial situation and all. It wouldn't be surprising if some of them quit right then and there.  
  
Once the Dragonfly had landed, her captain informed the crew that he wanted them to assemble on deck. Still working out how he was going to put Diego's request into words, he waited until everyone was present before he began to speak:  
  
"All right, everyone, I know this wasn't a very profitable voyage, but let's look on the bright side: everyone who left here five months ago has come back alive and in one piece. Considering our line of work, I think that's a major accomplishment." There were murmurs of approval all around. Good, Stryker thought, at least they won't mutiny any time soon.  
  
"With that said," he continued, "it's time I told you all what Diego wanted to talk to me about at Sailor's Island. You have heard that the Red Sands Gang murdered Hakim in his sleep. These pirates have become far more than just pirates. They're threatening all of Nasr. Diego is going to try and stop them, and he asked me for help."  
  
"And what did you tell him?" Cage inquired.  
  
"I told him I would think about it," the captain answered after a long pause.  
  
"Think about it?" was the incredulous question from the gunner. "Captain, we didn't ask for our jobs here because we thought it would pay well. We all wanted one of two things: to see some adventure or make a difference. Hell, I wanted both. I say let's go!" This was followed by enthusiastic agreement from his shipmates.  
  
"Now hold on," Stryker interrupted. "There isn't any bounty on the Red Sands. If we go, we'll be risking our lives for free." The enthusiasm of the crew died down significantly. Money changed a lot of things.  
  
"I don't want any of you making any hasty decisions. Tell you what: It'll take four days to re-supply the Dragonfly. Take those four days to think about whether or not you want to go fight these people. If you want to go, just show up back here. If you don't come, I won't think any less of you. I'll see you later." Stryker stayed until the crew had left to their homes and families, then went up to his office in the city.  
  
It was a small office in an increasingly run-down building, but the rent for it was cheap and it served its purpose. If someone wanted to apply for a job or was putting a price on someone's head, they came here. While the Dragonfly was out at sky, the office was run by a woman named Elena. This was only a part-time job for her, as the office wasn't very busy most of the time and as a result open only a few days out of the week. She didn't mind, though, since the pay was more or les reasonable and it kept her occupied when she wasn't at her other part-time jobs.  
  
"Welcome back, Stryker," she said as he stepped through the door. "What's new?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much," Stryker replied. "We caught a rapist-murderer who was worth five times what we got for him, a gang of outlaws is tearing Nasr apart, and someone is raising a fleet to fight them."  
  
"Yeah, the Red Sands," Elena said. "I heard about them. Things are getting pretty crazy over there."  
  
"Tell me about it. I just asked the crew if they want to go help take those guys down. I'll be leaving again in four days if enough of them say yes. So, anything interesting happen while I was gone?"  
  
"No, not really," she answered, not the slightest bit surprised by what Stryker had just said. She tried not to get to attached to her employer because she was convinced that, one day, Cage would show up to tell her of Stryker's demise. "But there are rumors that imperial investigators are coming to breath down the harbormaster's neck. I guess he couldn't dodge them forever."  
  
"No, I don't think he could. His family can't stop all those accusations from reaching the Emperor."  
  
"Well, then, I guess I'll get the Dragonfly re-supplied. I just have a few things to look over first. Everything you need to see is on your desk."  
  
"Thank you, Elena," Stryker said, and went the door behind Elena's desk to enter his personal office. It wasn't a very decorated room; there was a painting of a bird on one wall and a bookshelf on the opposite wall. His desk sat towards the back, littered with papers such as budgets, rent notices, wanted criminals, and so on. A bounty hunting business was a small one, requiring little. A simple office and a ship were all that were needed to run it.  
  
Stryker looked over the papers on his desk, shaking his head at the profit losses he beheld. Cage appeared abruptly in the room, as was his usual manner, and sat down congenially in a chair on the other side of the desk from his captain. There was a confident look on his face that he always got when Stryker showed any emotion that wasn't anger or frustration.  
  
"So," he began, "what happened at Sailor's Island?"  
  
"I told you. Diego's getting a fleet together- -"  
  
"No, not that. I'm talking about your date. How did it go?"  
  
"Fine, I guess, until I got into a fight with the girl," Stryker replied.  
  
"I see. And who was this girl?"  
  
This wasn't a question Stryker wanted to answer. If he didn't answer it, though, Cage would just keep prying. The vice captain was always trying to get him to admit that he really did care about other people and that he wasn't without emotion.  
  
"Piastol," Stryker said at last.  
  
"What!?" asked Cage, not believing what he was hearing. "Are you serious!? Piastol!? You were on a date with one of the most beautiful, sexiest women in the world and you got into a FIGHT with her!?"  
  
"Thank you, Cage, I'll be sure to take that out of your pay."  
  
"I'm just kidding you, man; you need to lighten up. Piastol was always messed up; I'd be surprised something bad DIDN'T happen. Oh, and just so you know, it looks like most of the guys are gonna go fight."  
  
"Good. Does that include you?"  
  
"Damn straight." His face became serious. "Stryker, I'd follow you to the gates of Hell and back."  
  
Stryker looked up from the papers.  
  
"I'm glad to hear that, Cage. Because from what I've heard of the Red Sands, that's exactly where we're going."  
  
~~~~  
  
Four days later, the captain and vice captain of the Dragonfly stood by the warship in the light of the rising sun, waiting for their comrades to appear. There was a tension that neither one spoke of. If enough people to operate the ship appeared, they would head to Nasr, and, probably, their deaths. If not, Stryker didn't know what he'd do.  
  
"Think they'll come?" he asked Cage.  
  
"Don't know. A lot of them have got wives and kids to worry about, and we're going up against some real nasty people. On the other hand, they might decide that it's worth the risk if we can bring them down." Cage gazed at the rising sun and sighed. "Some of them are coming for sure; I just don't know how many. Four days can be a long time when you're making a decision like this. Honestly, I was having some second thoughts myself -- "  
  
"Son of a bitch."  
  
"Hmm?" The vice captain looked in the same direction Stryker was and received a very big surprise. All of the crew had decided to come, and they were strolling along the docks together. There were even some new faces with them. Apparently, a few souls were either brave enough or crazy enough to apply for a job with a struggling bounty hunter solely for the purpose of fighting the Red Sands.  
  
"Well I'll be damned. They all came," observed Cage.  
  
"They sure did," Stryker responded with a rare grin. "All right, boys," he told the crew when they arrived, "set sail. It's party time."  
  
~~~~  
  
It was amazing how relaxing the rain was. Piastol stood there, on the deck of her boat, feeling the drops of water wash over her body. Water cleansed so many things. How she wished it could cleanse her hands of blood. Ever since that evening she spent with Stryker, the memories of the Angel of Death had resurfaced with potency she never thought possible. Everything she saw or smelled or heard seemed to bring with it the guilt of some moment of her previous life. Even the rain.  
  
*flash*  
  
The pirate dropped to the rain-soaked ground, his stomach split open. He wasn't dead yet, but he would be. Piastol had no desire to bear witness to the last few moments of his life, and so she turned and strolled nonchalantly through the storm to her boat. The pirate deserved a far worse fate than what he had just received, but the Angel of Death was feeling merciful today. She endured the stares of horror and contempt from the people who had gathered to witness their captain's last stand with ease. No one was trying to stop her, and that was the smartest decision of their miserable lives.  
  
Somewhere, a child was screaming. The Angel of Death turned in time to see a girl of no more than four years burst from the crowd in tears. She was running across the field and through the pounding rain as fast as she could, sobbing and screaming for her Papa. Her legs carried her to where the battle had been fought and she collapsed to her knees, letting her tears fall upon the dying pirate.  
  
*flash*  
  
Piastol's heart nearly broke as the memory flashed before her eyes again and again. The pirate was a ruthless one, notorious for raiding and destroying water ships-- water ships that many moisture-deprived towns depended on for survival. Stryker had made a point: Piastol had made the skies safer. And all she had to do to accomplish that was take that little girl's father away from her forever. That little girl never saw the man who murdered and terrorized so many people. She only knew the man who would come home with wonderful things and who adored and loved her. And now he and all he had, all he was ever going to have, was gone, lost like tears in the rain.  
  
It was too much for Piastol to bear. Seven years of her life had been taken away by emptiness and despair. Seven years had been lost to darkness and blood. And she could have spent each and every one of those years with her sister, the only family she had left. But she had been too ready to give up; too easily she had given in to the belief that her entire family was dead.  
  
At first, she had wanted revenge. She trained in the art of combat under the very man who found her lifeboat, yearning for the day when she would meet the pirates who had taken her life face-to-face. Then, seven years after losing her family, she did. A young pirate named Vyse had executed a daring escape from the Valuan Grand Fortress, and an enormous bounty had been place on his head. Luring him with her Black Spots, Piastol fought him on his ship and lost. Recognizing him from the night her family died, she vowed that she would not rest until she defeated him. But then another idea entered her mind: what if he killed her? Then she would be free from the sorrow and the emptiness, finally able to rest. So when next she met him, she held back a bit, hoping that he would strike that fatal blow that would at last end her suffering!  
  
Three times she fought him, three times she lost, and three times he spared her life. When Piastol was too weak to even lift her scythe at the end of the last battle, Vyse revealed that Maria was alive. The pirate had been helping a bird that Maria was keeping as a pet. Furthermore, he had not been the one to destroy Piastol's father's ship. It had been Ramirez, whom she had befriended and admired, who ruined her life.  
  
Now Ramirez was gone, and with him went Piastol's chance for true vengeance. Not that it mattered now; a normal life was all she wanted. Yet no matter how hard she tried to forget her past, her sins, they would be with her forever. It was her destiny to carry the burden of guilt--a burden that she could hardly bear  
  
Something was wrong, though. Stryker's words came back to haunt her: "You were living for the wrong reasons. But you were fighting for the right ones." Had she really been doing the right thing? No, that couldn't be true. The difference between right and wrong could be difficult to see, but Piastol was certain of one thing: that little girl had deserved to keep her father. 


	7. The Rape of Maramba

Piastol's boat appeared just as the storm was beginning to break and the sun beginning to set. Relieved, Doc went out on deck to help his friend get her vessel attached to the clinic-ship. Storms could be treacherous, even when they were weak, and Piastol's boat was so very small. She had been acting strangely ever since her date; she ate less, exited rooms when she was in the middle of a conversation, and overall make Doc and Maria worried, the former more than the latter. Unlike Maria, Doc was well aware of Piastol's previous life, and knew how much it hurt her to think about it.  
  
With this latest episode, going out in her small craft during a thunderstorm when night was falling, Doc resolved to find a psychiatrist to relieve whatever mental ailments the former bounty hunter had. He kicked himself for not doing that sooner. It was clear Piastol needed help, but he had not seen it, being too busy or too naïve. He was a fool; it was his life's work to help people, and yet he never stopped to help those closest to him.  
  
The blue-sailed boat glided over to the side of the ship with grace as Piastol performed the usual maneuver of docking with Doc's flying clinic. She did it in an almost trancelike state, apparently not paying much attention to what she was doing. A closer look revealed that she was soaked to the bone, with some of her hair plastered to her face and her clothes dark with water. She did not give her usual greeting; she only stared blankly into space. It was a sight Doc did not want to see.  
  
"Piastol," he asked her in as clam voice a voice as he could manage, "is there something wrong?"  
  
"Hm?" She looked at him as though she had just notice he was there. "Oh, no, why?"  
  
"You left in the middle of a rainstorm without telling anyone, you don't eat as much as you used to, you stare into space all the time; Piastol, you're making me worried sick."  
  
"I'm sorry, it's just. . ." She paused suddenly, seemingly at a loss for words. "I only needed to think, nothing more," she said vaguely.  
  
Doc nodded, not completely believing what he was hearing.  
  
"Did that guy you went out with do something to you?" Doc asked in a wary voice.  
  
"No, he would never do anything to me. But. . . He's a bounty hunter, and there are the Red Sands in Nasr now, and he said that he would help fight them, and I know I did terrible things, but those pirates over there, I have heard so little about them, and I don't know if he's doing wrong or even if he's going to survive and--" She rubbed her reddening eyes with a hand. "I don't want him to die, Doc, I just don't." She sobbed, and her friend wrapped her in a panicked embrace, trying to ease her pain. For what seemed like an eternity, neither one of them spoke. Piastol did not want any words to be said, she just wanted all of the questions in her head to stop asking themselves.  
  
"He said I was fighting for the right reasons," she whispered. "And I don't know what those are anymore." No new drops of water came from her eyes. Her tear ducts had already run dry.  
  
"It's okay, Piastol," Doc murmured. "Shh. Just go inside and get a good night's sleep. Things will be better in the morning." He helped her through the door that led to the ship's interior, wondering if she would ever escape the crimes of her past.  
  
~~~~  
  
Piastol felt a little better when she woke up the next morning. The flashbacks seemed to have stopped for now, but she knew they would return, and they would bring with them the pain and sorrow of the Angel of Death. Sooner or later, they always returned.  
  
She climbed out of bed and put on a white blouse with sleeves that flared and ended at the elbow and a pair of loose navy blue trousers. Her old leather outfit had been lost among the laundry and forgotten long ago. Piastol didn't mind, since the clothes she wore now were more comfortable anyway. Besides, she no longer had any need to show off her body.  
  
Breakfast was waiting for her in the galley, where Maria and the patients were starting their day. Maria was listening intently to the ill sailors' stories of gigantic monsters and faraway lands, blissfully unaware that the patients' tales were all lies intended to make them look good. Doc was at the stove, frying up some eggs and koketa steaks. It smelled wonderful.  
  
"Morning, Piastol," Doc greeted her. "Feeling better?"  
  
"A little, yes," his friend replied. "I'm a bit hungry, though."  
  
"Well, that's a good sign." Doc grinned. "Take a seat; I'll have your breakfast ready in just a minute." Piastol nodded, and sat down at the large galley table where a sailor with an arm in a sling was spinning a preposterous tale about how he and his crewmates did battle with a giant bird:  
  
"We sailed as fast as we could, but the bird was faster. It grabbed our hull in its huge claws and shook our ship around like it was a toy, and it tried to eat us!"  
  
"What did you do?" Maria asked in an awed voice.  
  
"Well, I took a long piece of rope, see. I tied a big metal hook to it, and when the bird lowered its beak to try and eat us, I threw it as hard as I could and it wrapped around the bird's beak and closed it shut! And the bird jerked its head up, trying to shake off the rope. But I held on tight, and I shook the bird's head around, really showing it who was boss, you know? Then, it started pulling away really hard, and I let go of the rope, and the bird's head flew back and it let go of the ship." The story- teller made big gestures with his good arm and used the best story-telling voice Piastol had ever heard. He really was quite entertaining. "Then, the bird flew away scared, because it knew not to mess with me now!"  
  
"That's amazing," remarked his audience, voice still filled with awe. The story she had just heard was utterly ridiculous, but Maria had seen too little of the world to know that.  
  
"Just you wait," another patient piped up in a sarcastic tone. "He'll probably tell you about the time when he won the Battle of Soltis single- handed."  
  
"I'll have you know I fought at Soltis, thank you very much," the first man retorted around a mouthful of breakfast. "I sailed on the Delphinius with the great Captain Vyse." Another lie.  
  
"Oh, I know him!" Maria chirped. "He helped me feed my pet bird!"  
  
"You know, not everyone thinks so highly of him," Piastol commented casually.  
  
"You know someone like that?" inquired the man with the arm in a sling.  
  
"I do indeed. He used to go on these great long rants of how greatly he despised him."  
  
"Out of curiosity, is this guy's name Baltor?"  
  
"No. He is a bounty hunter."  
  
"Ah. That explains it, then."  
  
"They're dangerous people, bounty hunters," said the second patient. "More dangerous than any pirate, if you ask me. Why, I once saw one kill three people with only a mop!"  
  
"And you call me a liar," the first patient snorted.  
  
"I'm serious! They're trained to fight like that; you know, to use whatever they have. And that includes mops." While it was doubtful that the second patient had actually witnessed three people getting killed with a mop, what he said was true: bounty hunters were the best and most resourceful fighters in the world. They had to be, because much of their time was spent in life-or-death struggles with pirates. Piastol had received the same kind of training, and she still remembered every second of it.  
  
"Whatever," the first patient said, pulling his coffee mug away from his face. He returned his attention to Maria. "Now, sit back, and I'll tell you about how I got through the Dark Rift with only a dinghy and a stick!"  
  
Piastol ceased to pay attention to the ridiculous tale when Doc placed her food in front of her. She thanked him and made a conscious effort to satisfy her appetite, as opposed to what she had been doing lately. Strangely enough, she did not need to force herself to eat her meal; it came naturally to her. It was a welcome change and struck her as a sign of recovery.  
  
The rest of the morning passed in relative peace, with the story-teller keeping Maria amused and the other patient snorting in contempt as the lies lost more and more credibility. Once or twice, the first patient made contradicting statements in his tales, much to the confusion of his audience and amusement of the other patient. Around mid-morning, the patient who had antagonized the first left, having made a full recovery from his ailments. Maria and Piastol set about their chores, washing clothes, doing inventory on supplies, and otherwise keeping the clinic run smoothly.  
  
At midday a Nasrean merchant ship arrived, bringing with it a man who had burns all along his right arm. During yesterday's storm, he had been in the engine room making sure that the engine didn't overheat. But overheat it did, and one of the contraption's compartments burst, causing a great deal of pain for the hapless crewman. The burns were not severe, Doc determined upon examining his latest charge, but it would take a day or two for the treatment to take effect.  
  
"We don't have a day or two," the merchant ships captain explained. "We're already behind schedule as it is."  
  
"It's all right, Captain," the burnt engineer reassured. "You go on ahead; I'm sure I'll find a way to get home."  
  
"I can help you with that," Piastol interrupted. "I have a boat; I can take you where you need to go when the treatment takes effect."  
  
"There, you see, Captain?" The engineer smiled. "Problem solved." The captain scratched the back of his neck for a moment as he considered his options.  
  
"Very well," he said. "We'll meet you back in Maramba in a few days." Goodbyes were said, payment was made for Doc's services, and the merchant ship hurried on its way to Maramba.  
  
"That was a nice thing you did there," Doc told Piastol as she watched the merchants fly off into the distance.  
  
"It was nothing," she replied modestly. "I'm only glad I could be of help."  
  
"Well either way I'd like to thank you for it, and so would that merchant. You should make sure your boat's ready before you go; it's a long trip to Maramba."  
  
~~~~  
  
The engineer's name was Rafik. He was middle aged, good-natured, and constantly insisted that he help out with the chores around the ship, despite Doc's assurances that it wasn't necessary. He was the kind of man who liked to keep busy; sitting around waiting for his burns to start healing just wasn't his idea of a good time. He, too, had stories to tell Maria, but his were far more believable than the ones Maria had previously heard--and therefore far less interesting.  
  
When two days had passed, Doc inspected Rafik's injuries and proclaimed the Nasrean healthy enough to travel back home. Piastol's boat was loaded with supplies for the journey to Maramba. It was a three-day trip to the town, and another three days' return voyage; in other words, a long, boring ride. The only difficult part of the trip was navigating the rock reef that separated Nasr from the Mid Ocean, and pirates rarely attacked vessels that looked as though they did not have a great deal of valuables, so no trouble was anticipated.  
  
Rafik proved to be quite a thoughtful man. He was always making insightful observations about everything, from the beautiful patterns he found in the stars to the poetry in the flight of a flock of birds. After about the tenth such insight (a repeat of a previous one), Piastol began to wonder if this was an attempt at seducing her. They were, after all, alone on a small boat that was on a very boring voyage. Unfortunately for Rafik, Piastol was not the least bit interested in him. Once he figured that out by watching her reactions to his insights, he became significantly less talkative.  
  
There was one time on the third day, however, just as Piastol's boat cleared the rock reef, when Rafik told Piastol of something she would never forget. It all began with a question:  
  
"You were a bounty hunter, weren't you?"  
  
Piastol froze. How could he have known about her past? As far as she could tell, she hadn't given him any clues.  
  
"Yes," she responded warily. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"My captain's reaction," he explained. "He kept giving you this nervous look, like you were dangerous or something."  
  
"I was, once," she said, pulling on a line to calm a fluttering sail. "That is a life I abandoned long ago. But why did you ask if I was a bounty hunter and not a pirate? Or an assassin?"  
  
"Beacause," he said, leaning casually against the gunwale, "I have never heard of a pirate or assassin that flew with entirely blue sails." He was beating around the bush, circling until the time came to ask the most important question.  
  
"What is your reason for this interrogation?" Piastol demanded, hoping that she didn't sound too upset. She knew Rafik had figured out who she was; there was no mistake.  
  
"You're her, aren't you?" he began. "You're the one they call the Angel of Death."  
  
"I was," Piastol snapped. She deliberately avoided looking at him. "I am no longer."  
  
"I wonder, though: do you know why the pirates called you that?"  
  
Piastol admitted that she did not. She never really thought about it until now, but it was an interesting name. The "death" part of it was given for obvious reasons, but what of "angel?" How did the pirates come up with that?  
  
"Do you know what angels are, Piastol?" Rafik inquired.  
  
"No."  
  
Rafik's looked out into the distance, a strange tone finding its way into his voice.  
  
"Angels are mysterious beings, winged and beautiful. They help sailors in dire need and sing beautiful songs that float with the wind. They are guides to the lost, upholders of virtue, and, should the need arise, protectors of the innocent. Angels are of great importance in Nasr; everyone believes in them. Every year, when sandstorm season ends, the Festival of Lights is held to honor them. Our ship even has a figurehead designed to look like an angel." His gaze returned to Piastol. "Your name could be considered a compliment."  
  
"It seems to me," the engineer's escort replied, "that it was a twisted joke. From what you've told me of angels, I do not believe that they would behave the way I did."  
  
"Suit yourself," Rafik said with a shrug. "But you look like you need to move on from that. Sometimes, forgetting can be hard. It's not something that can be done alone--"  
  
"Hush!" Piastol interrupted him. Her next words were little more than a whisper. "Listen!" There was a strange sound in the air, almost unrecognizable. It was coming from far away. And it seemed to be coming from the same direction that Maramba lay.  
  
As the boat traveled closer to its destination, the noise grew louder until Rafik identified it in a horrified whisper.  
  
"Cannon fire."  
  
Piastol navigated her boat closer to Maramba, until, after they rounded a cliff; the source of the noise came into view. Two ships, both flying pirate flags, were in the middle of firing their weapons on the defenseless town. There was no clear reason for it; the pirates were merely bombarding the buildings and people seemingly at random. It was senseless, malicious, random violence and destruction.  
  
"We. . . we have to. . . " Rafik was too shocked to form any words. His eyes were firmly fixated on the horrible scene before him and would not look away. He stammered, whimpered, and finally grabbed Piastol by the shoulders. "We have to do something!" he shouted.  
  
"There are no weapons on this boat!" Piastol told him. "We'll be killed!"  
  
Logic sank into Rafik's mind, and he let go of her. Returning his sight to the attack, he fell to his knees and started to cry. He had spent almost all of his life in Maramba, and seeing it in flames when there was nothing he could do but watch was more than he could take. Staying strong and his companion's opinion of him meant nothing now; he sobbed uncontrollably.  
  
An hour after most of the buildings in Maramba had been burned to the ground, the pirate ships docked at the township's harbor. Then the screams came. They drifted over almost like music, chilling Piastol's blood. She tried to keep her mind off of what was happening by any means possible. She sat idly at the bow, tossing a knife in the air, letting it twirl once, and catching it deftly by the handle. The boat was moved out of the pirates' line of sight, as much to keep its passengers safe as to stifle the sights and sounds of the brutal attack.  
  
The sun went down, and as darkness overtook the world the screams became less intense. Carefully, Piastol steered her boat to get a look at what was happening, and was greeted by the absence of the pirate ships. The marauders had apparently grown bored with Maramba, and left the helpless town with its innocence shattered.  
  
"Let's go," Rafik urged, trying and failing to maintain a calm tone of voice. Piastol complied, and braced herself for what she was about to see.  
  
The docks had been all but destroyed, and the buildings that were too close to them had ceased to exist; smoldering ruin was all that remained of the area. Piastol guided her vessel to one of the few surviving docks, and before it was even secure, Rafik leapt onto land and ran madly to the main portion of town. Piastol secured the boat and slowly stepped into the death and destruction that had been Maramba.  
  
Corpses, none of them with weapons, littered the ground. Women and, it seemed, children, were not exempt from a grisly death; the pirates had not cared who they killed. All valuables and food were gone; there was not a gold piece or loaf of bread in sight. Piastol picked her way through the carnage in a daze, not knowing where she was going. An old woman ran up to her and seized her suddenly by the shoulders.  
  
"My children!" she screamed. "Have you seen my children!?" Piastol shook her head dumbly. Sobbing, the old woman stumbled off into the night, calling out the names of her children.  
  
Something caught Piastol's eye as she continued through the chaos. In an alley, a female figure was slumped against the wall and was not moving. She moved in for a closer look and found a girl, not more than fourteen, with her eyes glazed over in death. She had blood in only two places: her neck, and between her legs. Carefully, Piastol raised a hand to the lifeless face and closed the girl's eyes and stumbled back into the street. A toddler was sitting by a well in tears, crying out for his mother and father. Blood soaked the streets, smoke and fire hid the stars, and the stench of death permeated everything and everywhere. Piastol collapsed to her hands and knees and was noisily sick. When her stomach had been totally emptied, she rolled over on her back and wept as the death and chaos and confusion swirled around her and consumed her very soul. 


	8. Master of the Sands

It had been hard, at first. Now it was all too easy. There was no pain; guilt had ceased to exist. Zahn didn't know exactly when his new career became fun. The last few lunar cycles had sort of bled together to become one blur of blood and gold. It all began so simply. There was a time when Zahn would have never even thought of attacking a defenseless ship, let alone a town. For him, piracy wasn't about the money or the kill, it was about adventure. He only raided armed ships, preferably those in the employ of the hated Valuan Armada. Not one woman or child was even looked at the wrong way; he was every inch a Blue Rogue.  
  
Then, his fortunes began to change. Three years ago, the mythic continent of Soltis had been raised from the depths of the sky. Valua was destroyed by a rain of moonstones, and with it much of the Armada. Galcian, once supreme commander of the Armada, now proclaimed himself to be the ruler of all Arcadia. Zahn's good friend, Vyse, led a fleet of air pirates in a desperate battle against Galcian and those in the Armada that had stayed loyal to him. The treacherous admiral was killed, Soltis was returned to Deep Sky, and the Armada had been almost utterly destroyed.  
  
Valua no longer ruled the skies. Zahn and his crew celebrated for weeks and regretted not taking part in the battle. The Armada would never again terrorize the air, and at first that seemed like the most wonderful thing that had ever happened in history. However, no more Armada also meant no more honorable targets. Zahn tried desperately to keep the gold coming in by going after Black Pirates, but it wasn't enough. He cut his crew down to skeleton numbers, got cheap food and equipment, and still he could barely feed himself. He would voyage for months at a time and often returned home with nothing to show for it.  
  
One day, while Zahn was out at sky, his lookout spied a vessel with black sails. Hopeful that these Black Pirates were wealthy or even well-off, Zahn and his crew made a beeline for the strange ship. Upon closer examination, the Blue Rogues saw that their quarry was not a pirate ship, but a merchant boat that just happened to have black sails.  
  
Despair set in. Zahn could not, would not go home empty-handed again. Heedless of honor and the code of the Blue Rogues, he ordered his crew to seize the ship and steal anything they could. The crew members were shocked and refused to carry out their orders at first, but eventually forced themselves on the merchants and quickly did the deed. Zahn felt awful; how could he do such a thing? It was against everything he had ever stood for. But no matter how much he told himself that he regretted his actions, he knew in his heart that he didn't. He also knew that he would do it again. He would have to.  
  
The next time the Blue Rogue attacked an unarmed ship, he did not feel so bad. In fact, it was the most successful raid he had done in a very long time. Again and again, Zahn and his crew robbed any ship they found, armed or unarmed. Remorse disappeared, he was almost proud of what he and his crew were doing. Eventually, he had obtained so much wealth that he could by another ship to speed up the process of raiding. Pretty soon, he could by another. And another. And another. And another, until he had twenty ship at his command. By now, the Nasrean Navy had gotten wind of him. However, they were by no means a threat to his operation. A simple, regular bribe was all that was needed to keep most of the admirals' heads turned the other way. He had anyone else assassinated; and now he could afford the best assassins in the world. A few had come into permanent employment with him.  
  
There was a bounty hunter named Haku or something like that; Zahn did not bother to commit his name to memory. But he was a nuisance all the same, attacking Zahn's ships until they were in dire need of repair. He even destroyed a few, but Zahn simply replaced those. So the one-time Blue Rogue ordered the bounty hunter's death. Late one night, when the nuisance's ship was asleep, an assassin climbed aboard and stabbed the bounty hunter right there in his bed. For good measure, all but one of the crew members were eliminated as well. The survivor was set loose to spread the word that the same fate would befall anyone and everyone who stood in the way of the Red Sands Gang.  
  
Now, with Maramba as an even better example, Zahn could set to work reaching his true goal: sovereignty. He would take his place as the new Nasultan, and rule the desert kingdom with an iron fist. And the best part was, no one could stop him.  
  
The warlord grinned smugly to himself as the ships he sent to Maramba arrived back at base with elated crews. He hadn't gone himself, of course; he was totally content to stay at home and manage the fleet from there. From time to time he would join a raid, but letting other people do the work was so much more enjoyable.  
  
Zahn waited by the docks where the ships moored themselves, ready to greet the captains who had served him so admirably. The best of the spoils would be his alone, of course. It was his favorite of the many perks of being the man in charge. The captains departed their aircraft and strolled toward the warlord, complimenting each other on a job well done.  
  
"Welcome back," Zahn greeted them as they approached. "How did it go?"  
  
"Couldn't have gone better, boss," said one of the captains. "No one will mess with us now. No one with a brain in his head, anyway," he added with grin.  
  
"You wouldn't be able to recognize Maramba now," commented the other captain. "You should have seen what we did to those people. All we gotta do now is tell the government to give up, and we'll be runnin' the whole damn country."  
  
"Good work, boys," Zahn told his captains. "Take a load off; you have plenty of time before the next voyage."  
  
"Oh, that reminds me, boss," the first captain remembered aloud. "I know how you got a thing for redheads, so I got you a little present." He shouted at one of his crewmen to fetch the "present," and a moment later a pretty young redheaded girl was dragged off the ship and presented to the warlord on her knees. Her clothes were ripped in several places, but Zahn didn't mind. She wouldn't be wearing them very often.  
  
"Nice," the warlord mused.  
  
"Why!?" the girl sobbed. The tears she had been fighting back now flowed freely, as her fate suddenly became clear to her. "Why do you hate my people so much!?"  
  
"Hate your people?" Zahn asked, genuinely surprised. "Why would I hate Nasreans? As a matter of fact, I love you and your people. You always prove to be so useful to me." And then he laughed. 


	9. Into the Darkness

The light from the lantern on Piastol's desk was the only thing that penetrated the darkness of the night. The former bounty hunter sat in front of a blank piece of paper with a pen in her hand, not sure where to start. She had time--Doc and Maria were fast asleep by now. There was no way to tell how long she had been there, racking her mind to think of how to tell her sister and friend what she was going to do. No matter what, Piastol was sure of one thing: the people who destroyed Maramba had to be stopped, regardless of the cost.  
  
Ever since she left what was left of the town, Piastol had been tortured nonstop by flashbacks of the crimes she committed. Only now it was worse: someone else was doing to innocent people the exact same thing she did to pirates. She knew that the Red Sands Gang would not stop until they were utterly destroyed. She also knew that if she ever wanted the questions in her head to stop, she would have to help make sure that happened. All the preparations for her journey were made, all except one: telling Doc and Maria where she was going and what she would do there. When the words finally came to her, Piastol tapped her pen against the paper, and began:  
  
/Dear Doc,  
  
By the time you read this, I will be gone. I do not wish to leave you or Maria, but I must. When I took Rafik to Maramba, I saw two ships belonging to the Red Sands Gang attacking the town. I went ashore when they had left, and what I saw will haunt me forever. People--men, women, and children, were lying dead in the streets. Nothing of value was left; buildings were either leveled or burning; blood was everywhere. A bounty hunter is organizing a resistance against them, and I intend to join him. I don't know if I will come back alive or not. Please do not come after me. As for Maria--/  
  
Piastol stopped. What could she possibly tell Maria? The thought of her big sister flying off to her death after just getting her back might be too much for her to bear. Piastol couldn't let her know the truth, she just couldn't. Maria had to believe that everything would be okay.  
  
/Tell Maria that I have just gone on vacation to Ixa'taka. She must never know that I was the Angel of Death. I do not know how she would react if she knew how many pirates I killed, how many lives I ruined. It would do something to her, Doc. I might never be able to face her again. Hopefully, I will see you both again. I love so much.  
  
Your friend,  
  
Piastol/  
  
With that, Piastol got up from the desk and made her way to her boat. She was surprised to find that she was not crying. She was leaving the only family she had left in order to go to her death, and yet she was somehow at peace. When Doc read the letter, he would know how Piastol was feeling, and she had told him how much she cared about him and her sister. That made it a little easier for Piastol to do what she was going to do.  
  
The boat was where it always was, moored to the gunwale of the ship. Not a soul was out on deck; Piastol checked just to be sure. She didn't want any witnesses to her departure; they would ask questions. The knot attaching the boat to the ship was undone, the engine was started, and soon Piastol's vessel began to drift away from her home. The former bounty hunter took one last look at the place where she had tried to rebuild her life for three years. Still no tears. She turned her craft towards Nasr and sailed off into the darkness.  
  
~~~~  
  
Stryker watched with a sort of detached interest as the pirate ship obligingly became an unrecognizable heap of burning flotsam on the sands below. He didn't know who those pirates thought they were, but they clearly had not had any idea who they were dealing with. That was a mistake for which they had paid with their lives. They were probably from the Red Sands, the bounty hunter assumed. He and his crew were on their way to Nasrad when out of nowhere these guys showed up and demanded that he hand over all of the treasure on his ship or else. They quickly found themselves on the receiving end of "or else."  
  
Already it was clear how the Red Sands Gang had cowed and dominated the desert. The pirates that attacked Stryker acted as though they would never meet any resistance; their cannons hadn't even been loaded. But they were dead now, and soon their buddies would be too--or at least in jail.  
  
Stryker looked up at his lookout on the crow's nest.  
  
"How far are we from Nasrad?" he inquired.  
  
"Not far," the lookout replied. Landmarks were often used to determine one's location, and the lookout knew all of the main landmarks in the world by heart. "If we keep at this speed, we'll be there a little after noon."  
  
Stryker nodded, pleased with the answer. Cage appeared through the door to the Dragonfly's interior, looking very frustrated about something.  
  
"Problem?" Stryker asked innocently.  
  
"You're damn right there's a problem!" the vice captain barked. "Most of the new guys are total landlubbers; they don't know the first thing about sailing! That wouldn't be so bad, really, if they could just learn how to use a damn weapon!"  
  
"So give them guns, if we have enough. Those are pretty simple to use."  
  
"Not for these idiots. One of them forgot the pistol he was holding was loaded, and he ended up blasting a hole in one of the loqua barrels."  
  
"Was it the silver loqua?" the captain asked urgently.  
  
"Oh, no. If he shot the good stuff, I would've tossed him overboard."  
  
"That's a little harsh."  
  
Cage grumbled something Stryker couldn't hear and set himself to work on deck, making sure everything was in order. The Dragonfly's captain let out a sigh. The new crew members would have to learn to either sail or fight, and soon. Otherwise, they would just be in the way and eventually get themselves--or worse, everyone--killed.  
  
Nasrad showed itself a few hours later, when most of the crew had just finished lunch. Judging from a distance, not much had changed about it. The harbor was still there, with merchant ships entering and exiting at a steady pace. Docked in the harbor was a white Valuan battleship--Diego's ship, the Isabella.  
  
The interior of the city was a different story entirely. Shipments of goods were still being loaded and unloaded, and people were still going about their business, but there was something in their eyes that betrayed a fear that neither Stryker nor Cage had ever seen before.  
  
"This isn't normal," Cage murmured.  
  
"Damn straight," Stryker responded. "You go find whatever information you can about what's going on; I'll find Diego and tell him we're here." While Cage set off with a few of the crew members to look for news, Stryker made his way through the harbor towards the Isabella. Diego would probably be happy to see him, since people around here looked like they didn't have a whole lot of faith in him or his fleet.  
  
That kid Diego was mentoring--Esteban; that was his name--was chatting with a fellow sailor when Stryker arrived. He didn't seem any less naïve than when Stryker met him at the Smoke & Fire. There was still a kind of cocky look on his face, like he was invincible or something.  
  
"Hey kid," Stryker called out to the teenaged noble. "Go tell your captain I want to talk to him."  
  
"Hey, Stryker," Esteban replied. "So, you decided to fight after all?"  
  
"No, I'm here to work on my tan," the bounty hunter snorted sarcastically. "Of course I decided to fight, dumb-ass! Now go get Diego!" Esteban did as he was told, scurrying up to the Isabella as though his life depended on it while the sailor he was talking to tried very hard not to look at the big, angry man with the metal hand. Stryker sighed. He had always been intimidating to other people and likely always would be. Just once, he would like to have a conversation with a stranger who didn't fear for his life. No, he did have a conversation like that, long ago. . .  
  
"Stryker," someone called from above. Diego had appeared, and made his way down the ladder that led from the ship's deck to the dock. "Glad you could make it," the elder man greeted. He offered his hand in a friendly handshake--he remembered to offer his right hand, lest his left be accidentally crushed by Stryker's metal claw.  
  
"Good to see you," Stryker returned. "I hope I'm not the first one to arrive."  
  
"Oh, by no means. With you, we now have nine ships. Mind you, the enemy has twenty."  
  
"Nineteen. One of them decided to pick a fight while I was on my way here."  
  
"Well, bravo, then. Our odds of victory are now slightly higher."  
  
"Out of curiosity, Diego, just how exactly do you plan on winning?"  
  
"Hunt them down one at a time, in groups," Diego answered. "While trying to keep our numbers hidden, of course. If Zahn finds out about how badly outnumbered we are we'll be in trouble."  
  
"Hold on a second. Did you say Zahn?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I forgot to mention him earlier. He's the leader of the Red Sands Gang, you see."  
  
"Son of a bitch," Stryker whispered.  
  
"Is there something wrong?"  
  
"I know Zahn. Or at least I did; I'm not so sure now."  
  
"Well, don't worry. If we're lucky, you'll get a chance to beat an explanation out of him. By the way--Jacob arrived some time before you did."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"I'm always serious, Stryker."  
  
"All right then. Thanks, I'll go catch up with him."  
  
The bounty hunters said their goodbyes, and Stryker set out in search of his mentor, Jacob. The old man was the one who trained Stryker to hunt pirates, who took him under his wing and treated him like a son. Jacob was the father Stryker never had--or, more accurately, the father that hadn't tried to kill him. The thought of fighting alongside his mentor again filled Stryker with a feeling that he and the other bounty hunters could win, that this crazy plan might actually work. For the moment, it seemed, reality had left.  
  
Cage and those who had gone with him were racing through the harbor, shouting for their captain. Apparently, they had found out why the townspeople looked so worried.  
  
"Stryker," Cage gasped when he reached his captain, "we just heard from the Sailor's Guild's office--Maramba was attacked."  
  
"What do you mean by 'attacked?'" Stryker demanded.  
  
"I mean the Red Sands trashed it. They just came out of nowhere and started blasting away. Once most of the buildings were gone, they landed and sacked the whole damn town. Killed a lot of people too."  
  
"Holy shit . . . if they hit Maramba, pretty soon they're gonna go after Nasrad."  
  
"Which is why everyone looks like it's the end of the world."  
  
Stryker folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"We don't have much time then," he said firmly. "We need to start taking out the enemy's ships tomorrow before they get convinced no one will stop them."  
  
"It's a little late for that," Cage responded grimly.  
  
~~~~  
  
Morning came to the clinic-ship. Everyone went about their tasks like they did every other day. Doc was cooking breakfast; Maria was delivering food to the patients who were too sick or badly injured to get out of bed; the patients who could make it to the galley regaled each other with stories of courage and daring-do that they had performed. Piastol, however, was strangely absent from the new day's activities.  
  
"Maria," Doc said as the little girl came back from delivering a bedridden patient's breakfast, "could you go wake Piastol, please? She should have gotten up by now."  
  
"No problem," Maria chirped. She ambled her way through the galley door and down the hall to her sister's cabin. It was odd indeed that she was still asleep; she was usually the first one out of bed in the morning.  
  
"Piastol," Maria called in a singsong voice after knocking on the door. "It's time to get up. Come one, wake up, sleepyhead!" There was no answer. "Piastol?" Carefully, Maria opened the door and saw that her sister's bed was empty. It looked as though no one had slept in it at all. On the desk on the far side of the room there was a piece of paper with writing on it and a pen and inkwell. Curious, Maria made her way to the desk to see what the note said. 


	10. Alluring Doom

The winds of the new day's dawn stirred the air around the Dragonfly, rousing the crewmembers that had spent the night out on deck. Stryker was leaning on the rail of the bow, not noticing anything of his surroundings. His mind kept wandering back to the other day, when he and the other resistance fighters were making ready to depart Nasrad. Seemingly out of thin air, Piastol had appeared, with the kind of face someone tries to wear when going to their public execution--no obvious emotion, but there was a sadness to her demeanor that only Stryker and Jacob had seen before.  
  
Jacob greeted her like the old friend she was, but it was clear to Stryker that his fatherly instincts had already taken over. He did not ask her directly if anything was wrong with her--the answer was obvious; Piastol had never been quite right in all the years he had known her--but he did ask the questions needed to discern whether or not she was well enough to fight. It appeared that she was, and so Piastol's and Stryker's mentor agreed to take her with him. Piastol would almost certainly be safe on the Old Glory, because Jacob and his boys were the best that had ever been. All the same, it was a lingering fear in Stryker's mind that she would meet a violent end.  
  
The Dragonfly's crew began to rouse, meaning that it was time to get the day started. The Yafutoman Ryujin's ship floated a few hundred yards away, also waking to greet the day. Together, Stryker and Ryujin would patrol the western edges of Nasr to destroy any ship flying the flag of the Red Sands. If he could have his way, though, Stryker would have sailed with a different bounty hunter, one who didn't go on and on about how Yafutoma was now the most powerful country in the world. While that statement was mostly true, Stryker didn't see why he needed to be reminded of it at every passing moment.  
  
"Captain!" someone shouted.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Are you all right?" It was Cage talking to him.  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"Because that was the third time I've said your name trying to get your attention. Mac's finished with breakfast. Are you worried about Piastol or something?"  
  
"No," Stryker lied.  
  
Cage walked over and leaned on the rail next to his friend and captain.  
  
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm worried too." He had always been able to tell when Stryker was lying, ever since they were kids. "But you've seen the way she fights; she'll be fine."  
  
"It's the way she fights that has me worried in the first place," Stryker murmured.  
  
*flash*  
  
The next cannon shot crippled the pirate ship's main engine, preventing it from making any sort of escape effort. With the boarding party readying their weapons, the Old Glory closed in on her target, eager to collect the very impressive price on these pirates' heads. Stryker repeatedly checked to make sure his scimitar was sharp, which of course it was--he took excellent care of it. Piastol stood a few feet away from him, scythe in hand and with an ominous look in her eyes--she was awfully young to take part in a battle, but that would not stop her. Stryker didn't think anything would.  
  
The Old Glory was getting closer now; close enough for her drew to see the pirates getting out their own weapons. Without waiting for Jacob to give the order, Piastol leapt from the deck into the enemy when she had half a chance of making the distance between the ships. Blood flew on the pirate ship as the crazed young woman set to work, slicing through bodies like they were wheat. She did not see the pirate that had snuck up behind her, though, and Stryker let out a wordless yell as she went down.  
  
Jacob finally gave the order to attack. Not wasting time, Stryker and Cage hurled themselves toward the enemy, fighting their way to where Piastol had fallen. Upon reaching her, Cage kept the pirates at bay while Stryker knelt down to see if she was all right. She was bleeding badly from the back, but she was breathing and appeared to be aware of her surroundings.  
  
"Piastol, what the hell is wrong with you!?" Stryker demanded. "You got a death wish or something!?"  
  
Piastol looked up with glazed eyes.  
  
"Why do you care?" she asked. "What does it matter?"  
  
*flash*  
  
"You don't really think she'd do something like that again, do you?" Cage inquired. "You said yourself that she found her sister. Why would she try to get killed?"  
  
"You can never really tell what's wrong with people or what they'll do," Stryker replied quietly. "Least of all Piastol."  
  
~~~~  
  
"So we're just going to get their attention and run, right? I mean, we won't have to fight, will we?" Esteban had never been on a ship that used sails before, especially one that was being used as bait for a band of pirates. Although his voice sounded calm, his knees were knocking against each other as he sat near the helm.  
  
"We probably will not need to fight them hand-to-hand," Piastol explained. "My boat is fast enough to get us to the canyon without a problem."  
  
"Just relax, Esteban," said Rico. "There's nothing to worry about, we're only here in case Piastol needs help with anything. You'll be fine. . . wait, do you hear that?"  
  
Esteban jumped to his feet. "What is it?" he asked urgently.  
  
"The jets on the bottom hull. . . They've stopped." Esteban punched Rico in the head, but that didn't stop the noble's crewmate from laughing at his expense. Piastol only shook her head, wondering why these two, of all the crew members of the Old Glory and Isabella, had joined her in setting the trap.  
  
It was a long, boring wait as the small sailboat circled through the air over Nasr, with its passengers scanning the skies for a pirate ship. Finally, at noon, one such ship appeared out of the clouds, heading almost directly for the bounty hunters.  
  
"Make sure the weapons are out of sight," Piastol commanded. Esteban nodded, and hid the scythe and rapiers under a blanket. Piastol steered the boat closer to the enemy, trying to make it look as though she were a curious trader who wanted to talk. Rico peered through a telescope and announced that they had the pirates' attention. Piastol turned sharply and flew her vessel full speed to the canyon where Jacob and Diego were waiting.  
  
The boat was indeed fast, as she had said. Esteban paced nervously around deck, looking for something to do besides sit and wait for the pursuers to overtake them and slaughter them, while Rico watched the pirate ship's speed.  
  
"Wow, they are really fast," he remarked conversationally. Chancing a look behind her, Piastol saw that the Valuan was speaking the truth. The gap between the two vessels was closing surprisingly quickly.  
  
"Should I get the weapons ready?" inquired Esteban.  
  
"No," Piastol answered firmly. "If they think for a moment that we're luring them into a trap, they will retreat and we will never get them."  
  
"Oh, come on, what are the odds that they'll figure out we're bounty hunters just from our weapons?"  
  
"Do you know how many people can wield a scythe in battle? Not many. And if they were to see me with one, they would recognize who they were chasing." Esteban shut up. Piastol had a point.  
  
"For the moons' sakes, girl, can't this thing go any faster!?" Rico pleaded from the stern. "They're almost on us!" A quick glance proved what he was saying was true. Almost automatically, Esteban lunged for the blanket that concealed the weapons.  
  
"No!" Piastol reminded him. The young noble nodded and resumed pacing around while running his fingers through his hair.  
  
Piastol flipped a switch next to the steering wheel, and the boat surged forward in a sudden burst of speed. It was an emergency feature she had installed some time ago in case she ever needed it: an engine add-on that rerouted spare moon stone energy directly the main jet output system. The effects wouldn't last very long, but hopefully it would carry the boat to the canyon before the pirates caught up. At the very least, it would buy some time.  
  
"I think that did the trick," Rico decided. "They're falling behind and-- oh, shit! They're getting the cannons ready!" On cue, Piastol maneuvered to the air directly in front of the pirate ship, out of the line of fire.  
  
"Just stay calm," she told her passengers. "The canyon should not be too far away now." This statement was not as reassuring as she would have liked, however, because it was immediately followed by a rifle shot landing on the deck. Esteban quietly began praying to whatever moons were listening at that moment not to let him die a virgin.  
  
At last the canyon where Jacob and Diego awaited the enemy hove into view; Piastol did not think there were many more welcome sights than this one. Unfortunately, the gauge that indicated how much extra moon stone energy was left to increase the boat's speed was lowering its reading at an alarming rate.  
  
"They're getting closer!" Rico shouted--rather unnecessarily, Piastol thought.  
  
"Hold on! We're almost there!" Another rifle shot followed Piatol's words.  
  
It wasn't clear which was approaching faster--the safety of the canyon or the death promised by the pirates. Either way, the chase was not going to last for more than a few more minutes. The shots from rifles became more frequent; it was a miracle that no one had been hit yet.  
  
Esteban's prayers were answered as Piastol's boat reached the massive opening in the cliff wall where the trap was waiting for the pirate ship. Piastol turned sharply into it, not bothering to see if her boat was clear of the cliff wall. The pirates followed closely, eager to catch and plunder the small vessel that had so foolishly traveled in their desert.  
  
They never had a chance.  
  
Upon entering the canyon, two ships with fully loaded artillery batteries greeted them with an all-out cannon bombardment. The bow hull of the pirates' ship was shredded in a matter of seconds as the Old Glory and Isabella opened fire on their foolish prey. With their task complete, Esteban, Rico, and Piastol were content to watch the spectacle from out of the way.  
  
"That was close," Esteban commented conversationally.  
  
"It was indeed," Rico said. "Are your pants still dry?"  
  
"Yes," the noble snapped. He watched the burning pirate ship descend as it was pounded into wreckage by the unrelenting cannons of the bounty hunters. Piastol stood motionless, mesmerized by the sight. So many people dying at once. . .  
  
"Piastol, what's wrong?" Rico inquired. "You've got weird look on your face."  
  
"It's nothing," she lied. 


	11. The Angel of Death

Piastol took the first watch after dinner. She kept her distance from her fellow sentinel, preferring be alone and have time to think. She did not regret making sure those pirates died, but all the same it was difficult not to dwell on it. They were responsible for the deaths and suffering of untold numbers of people, and now they were dead.  
  
Because of Piastol.  
  
That was what bothered her; she wasn't the Angel of Death anymore and the act of killing--whether carried out by her or by others--now had a greater impact on her. She didn't belong here, so what was she doing? Trying to do what was right? It didn't matter if she contributed to the fight or not; she was only one person and there was no way she could make a difference. It would have been much easier to just stay at home and let Jacob and Stryker and everyone else handle the Red Sands. Yet here she was, and she knew, deep down, that she could not go back home until this was finished.  
  
This was too much. She wanted everything that was happening to stop, to disappear as though it had never happened: the Red Sands, abandoning Doc and Maria, everything including her father's death. But no matter how badly she wanted that, she would never, ever have it. All there was left to do was to keep fighting until it was over. Then, hopefully, the questions screaming around in her mind would finally be answered and she could rest.  
  
Through the dark of night, Piastol could make out a familiar figure walking towards her. She recognized this sight; it was the same as when her lifeboat had been discovered. It was Jacob, the man who had saved her, trained her at her request, and served as her adoptive father. Without him, Piastol would have been worse off than she had been before.  
  
"Piastol," the patriarch asked softly, "are you feeling all right?"  
  
"Yes," Piastol replied as calmly as she could manage. "Why?"  
  
"Esteban and Rico told me that you might not be ready for this."  
  
For a while, Piastol said nothing. She very well might have been unprepared to face her past again. The Angel of Death was gone now, and all that was left was a lonely, confused young woman.  
  
"It is . . . more difficult for me to deal with killing now than it was before," she said. "I've just never really thought about death the way I do now. Throughout all those years I spent as a bounty hunter, killing was a simple thing: I slew the pirate and that was that. But now . . . I don't know."  
  
"I understand," Jacob told her with a nod. "If you like, we can drop you off in Nasrad in a few days."  
  
"I can't do that, Jacob. If I leave now, I will never know if I could see this fight through to the end. I must do this, no matter what."  
  
"Are you sure?" Jacob asked gently.  
  
"Yes," Piastol answered after a long pause.  
  
"Alright then. See you in the morning." With that, Jacob left her to her watch in the darkness.  
  
~~~~  
  
At dawn the Old Glory and Isabella set sail, again on the hunt for ships flying the flag of the Red Sands Gang. Piastol was assigned to the engine room, where she met a very gregarious engineer named Neil. He was the kind of man who was easy to talk to, and Piastol soon found herself engaging in a number of conversations with him, talking about everything from politics to bird migrations.  
  
Keeping the engine running smoothly occupied Piastol's focus rather effectively. It was simple work, but it required enough attention to the point where Piastol did not think about the other day. She heard from some of the other crew members that Esteban and Rico said that they would be happy to help Piastol set another trap. This information was greeted with mixed feelings from Piastol.  
  
The day passed uneventfully; Nasr was a big desert and finding another ship didn't happen very often. Piastol didn't mind, however. She had never gotten a thrill out of nearly getting herself killed, nor had she been able to understand why other people did. Neil shared her feelings, which was part of the reason why he worked in the engine room. The only dangerous part of being an engineer was the possibility that the enemy would fire at the engines to cripple the ship. Neil was fortunate enough to have never been around when that happened.  
  
He was a curious being, the engineer. He had heard of Piastol before, but had never met her; he was not a member of the crew when Piastol was on the Old Glory. He wanted to know everything about her, but she was unwilling to tell him absolutely everything.  
  
"So when did you first meet Jacob?" Neil asked her once.  
  
"He rescued me while I was drifting in a lifeboat," Piastol explained while checking a gauge. "My father was an admiral in the Armada. His ship was destroyed when I was of ten years. I don't remember everything that happened, but there was a fire in the middle of the night and most of the crew were missing for some reason I don't know. My father had always told me to get myself to a lifeboat as fast as I could in situations like that. I was able to get off the ship, but there was too much smoke and I could not tell whether or not any other lifeboats escaped. I spent three days in that lifeboat, waiting for someone to find me. I was almost dead of dehydration when Jacob discovered me."  
  
"Whoa," said Neil, with sincere awe in his voice. "So what happened after that?"  
  
Piastol was quiet for a moment. She sat down in a chair, leaned back, and began her story.  
  
~~~~  
  
I was in a daze when I was first taken aboard the Old Glory. I remember seeing many concerned faces and being taken to a quiet room, but nothing else. Someone--I found out later that he was the ship's doctor--examined me and gave me a few sips of water. He told me that I was going to be just fine and that there was nothing to worry about.  
  
When I awoke the next day, I saw the doctor walk into the room with a bucket of drinking water and some breakfast. He asked me how I was feeling, and when I told him I felt well, he went to tell his captain of my condition.  
  
The doctor arrived with Jacob a few minutes later, while I was eating the first food I had seen in a while. I recognized Jacob's face from the other day, and I believed that I could trust him. Even if I didn't trust him, what other choice did I have? I was probably a long way from home and he clearly cared whether I lived or died. I would have to cooperate him whether I liked it or not, but I didn't mind.  
  
Jacob asked me the questions I had been expecting--who I was, how I found myself alone in a lifeboat, how old I was. When I answered his questions, I decided to ask my own. I wanted to know where I was, who he was, and how I could find my way back home. It was the first time I had ever actually met a bounty hunter. I had heard of them before, and always thought that they were frightening people, but Jacob was kind and caring. He asked if I wished to be taken back to Valua, but I said that I did not. My mother was dead, and, I thought, so was the rest of my family.  
  
With nowhere else to go, I stayed with the Old Glory as its newest crew member. The rest of the crew took a liking to me, and I as I got to know them, I took a liking to them as well. There were two in particular I got to know very well: Stryker and Cage, both of whom were raiders--those who boarded a pirate ship and engaged them in hand-to-hand combat. It was odd; they were nothing alike and yet they were the best of friends. Cage was spontaneous and full of cheer; Stryker was stoic and calculating. Both were on the Old Glory for different reasons--Cage because his father was the ship's engineer (and I see from your presence, Neil, that he must have retired some time ago), and Stryker because his father was a pirate and he did not want to follow in his footsteps.  
  
They were young, those two; not quite so young as I was mind you, but young enough so that they usually had to assist the other raiders, rather than taking part in most of the fighting. After a few years passed, Jacob asked me if I wanted a paying job aboard his ship, and I said, "Yes."  
  
"What position?" he inquired. I wasted no time in making my reply. I was hungry for revenge, for it had been pirates (or so I believed at the time) that had destroyed my father's ship and killed my family.  
  
"I wish to be a raider," I told him. I still remember the look on his face. It was as though he knew what I was going to say, and had already accepted it. I could tell that he did not like the situation, but all the same he only said that he wished me luck in my new career.  
  
I chose the scythe to be my weapon. I could have used an easier weapon to wield, such as a sword or pistol. But neither of those could instill as much fear as I desired. The scythe is a frightening thing to behold, and those who can use one in combat prove to be very difficult to kill. I learned all of the basic techniques from the chief raider, but that was all he could teach me. I learned the rest of my skill through sparring matches with the other raiders. But my fervor worried them, Stryker more than anyone else. There was one day in particular when this was most evident. I was sparring with Cage. . .  
  
"Okay, I think that's enough for one day," he told me.  
  
"Don't be absurd," I said. "We can still continue."  
  
Cage wiped his brow and sighed.  
  
"Look, Piastol, I admire your dedication, but I'm exhausted. We've been at this for two hours, and supper is in five minutes. How's about a break?"  
  
"I feel fine. And I don't feel like taking a break," I added with a frown.  
  
"Well, that's just super. But I don't think I can take much more of this. I'm starving, and I'm going to get a bite to eat. You're welcome to join me."  
  
I said nothing, and he left without another word. I noticed Stryker watching from nearby, and I asked him if he desired a match.  
  
"No," he replied simply. "And you should watch yourself when you say that you feel fine."  
  
"Oh? And why is that?"  
  
"Because you haven't eaten anything all day and you're breathing harder than a hruska in heat."  
  
"I am not," I said, although what he had told me was true. He sighed.  
  
"This isn't healthy, Piastol," he said. "The captain is starting to wonder if you're ready for combat."  
  
"I'll be fine. And why are you so worried? Why?" For a brief instant, his expression cracked, and I could see that he had been genuinely hurt by my words.  
  
"Look, I may not be in charge of the raiders," he growled, "but I still like to know that the person watching my back can keep it together. To be quite honest with you, you look like you're going to collapse at any second."  
  
I said nothing. Stryker calmed down a little and walked over to place his hand on my shoulder.  
  
"Tell you what," he said to me softly. "Just have supper with the rest of the crew, take a breather, and then you and I can spar until lights out. Sound good?" I nodded, and we went to the galley together.  
  
Looking back, it seems that Stryker's concern was more personal than I thought at the time. He almost never showed any emotion, which made it somewhat difficult to tell what he was thinking. He's the same way now; I met him a little more than two weeks ago at Sailor's Island.  
  
But back to my story. Stryker was not alone in his concern for me; Jacob kept a watchful eye on my actions and behavior. In time, he became like a second father. He was the man I most admired and trusted, and he looked out for me. Even still, though, I was determined not to become emotionally attached to him or anyone else. My family's death had caused me too much pain, and I never want to feel that kind of pain ever again. Only now have I opened myself up to others.  
  
I served on the Old Glory for all of five years. Eventually I discovered that I was its most famous--or should I say notorious?--crew member. I was in a town, helping to obtain supplies, when I overheard two merchants talking about the Old Glory. They spoke of a young woman wielding a scythe whom all pirates had come to fear. They called her the "Angel of Death."  
  
I would remember that name well. From that point on, every pirate we met saw me with my scythe in hand and stepped back in fear. Most, once they learned who I was, were too afraid to fight and surrendered on the spot. My very presence became quite an effective weapon in its own right. We almost never had to kill a single pirate while I was around.  
  
But I was not content with merely capturing pirates. No, I wanted more than anything to kill as many as I could. I wanted them to suffer, to die horribly like all of the innocents they slaughtered. But especially the pirates who (I believed) killed my family and condemned me to a living hell of sorrow and misery. That was what I wanted.  
  
The time came however, when I was pushed too far. We had caught the trail of a particularly ruthless pirate--his name escapes me--and Stryker had recently been eager to test his skills in battle to the limit, having finally been allowed to fight alongside the rest of the raiders. The bounty on the pirate's head was enormous, and if we were to bring him to Valua dead or alive, we would be well-off for a long time.  
  
We found him by accident, when we were docked in a city in northern Valua. Someone heard that he was hiding out on an island not too far off. When we went after him and landed on his island, Stryker took a few raiders and, against Jacob's wishes, went ahead of the group to find him while the rest of us subdued the pirate's crew. I didn't know what was going to happen to Stryker. Cage and I found him lying covered in blood with the raiders he took with him dead on the floor of what looked to be the pirate's office. Blood was everywhere, and no trace of our quarry could be found. Stryker appeared to be breathing, but he had several gunshot wounds and his left arm had been cut off at the elbow.  
  
I don't remember how we got him back to the ship, but I do remember waiting outside the doctor's room with Cage and Jacob. Cage was saying that everything would be all right, but he seemed to be talking more to himself than to me.  
  
After what felt like an eternity, the doctor appeared and spoke quietly with Jacob. They apparently did not believe I could hear them, but I could. The doctor said, quite simply, that Stryker wasn't going to make it. I think he said something about how he wasn't sure what could do this to someone with as much experience as Stryker and the others.  
  
I went to my cabin in a daze. When I saw that I was alone, I closed the door behind me, fell down on the floor, and wept. This couldn't have been happening. Not Stryker, anyone but him. . .  
  
It was presumed that the pirate had escaped, so we went back to the closest town and put in there. Stryker was in a coma, but little reassurance was given of his recovery. While everyone else was preoccupied, I slipped away and used all of the money that I had with me to buy a boat. It was nothing fancy, just a simple one-person boat (the blue sails that you have heard about were bought later). With it, I went back to the pirate's island, to which I had no doubt he would return.  
  
I was correct. His ship appeared the very next day, and he seemed quite surprised to see me when he and his remaining crew members set foot on land.  
  
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded of me.  
  
"I am the Angel of Death," I informed him, "and I have come to put an end to your despicable life."  
  
"You must be joking," he said when he and his crew were finished with their laughter. "There's only one of you and ten of us. But don't worry; we won't be the ones to kill you." He whispered something in the ear of the man next to him, who then boarded the ship and appeared a few seconds later with some sort of artificial monster in tow. As I recall, it was silver, vaguely humanoid, and had circular, rotating blades where its hands should have been.  
  
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the pirate said with a grin. "Do you know what that is, little girl? It's called a robot. Used by the Silvites themselves."  
  
"I don't care what it is," I snapped. "Neither you nor your crew nor that thing will leave this place alive." The pirates merely laughed and told the monster to attack.  
  
I know this must be frustrating, but I don't remember any details of what happened. One moment, the silver monster was charging at me, the next its head was gone and it fell to the ground, and then I set to work on the pirates.  
  
I left no one alive. Some of the pirates may have begged for mercy, but I was not paying listening to them if they did. A few minutes later, each and every pirate was dead, and I was soaked in their blood. I burned their ship and everything on that island, and when I was done with that I took my boat and sailed off.  
  
I did not return to the Old Glory. I did not see Jacob or Stryker or anyone ever again for a long time. I traveled alone, finding bounties on pirates and hunting them down and killing them without question. Life lost all meaning to me; grief and despair were the only things I knew. That and the empty satisfaction I received from ending the lives of pirates. Happiness was only a memory, a fairy tale from long ago. . .  
  
~~~~  
  
Piastol looked up from the floor and saw Neil sitting in a chair across from her, utterly dumbfounded. All this happened when she was still little more than a child. . . He was mesmerized by her story, so much that he had forgotten to keep an eye on the engine. Suddenly remembering, the engineer got up and ran a check of all of the ship's systems.  
  
"So what happened after that?" he asked when he was finished.  
  
"About three years ago, I discovered that my sister Maria was among the living," Piastol told him. "She had been taken in by the doctor on my father's ship and lived on his clinic ship. When I found her, I stayed with her and the doctor. And I have spent the last three years aboard that clinic ship, trying to rebuild my life."  
  
"Hey, you in the engine room!" someone shouted from outside. "Soup's on in a few minutes!"  
  
Piastol stood up.  
  
"We should go," she said quietly. "It's not good to miss supper." She left then, leaving Neil, still speechless, alone in the engine room behind her. 


	12. Revelations

Esteban gazed deeply into the eyes of the beautiful girl that was with him, not wanting this moment to ever end. They were having a conversation, but the young noble didn't know what it was about. The girl smiled at him and, taking his hand, led him over to the bed that had somehow appeared in the middle of the grassy field. She was wearing only a light blue silk robe; Esteban a red cotton suit.  
  
ESTEBAN.  
  
As they kissed, the noble wrapped his arms around her and slowly lowered her onto the bed. She broke the kiss and looked up into his eyes.  
  
"Take me," she whispered softly. Gently, Esteban undid the knot holding her robe closed and opened it, revealing her gorgeous naked body. Her breasts were large and supple, her stomach flat, with curves in all the right places. Quickly, she grabbed him by the shoulders and flipped him over onto the bed on his back.  
  
"Snakeskin is so uncomfortable," she remarked as she tore off Esteban's shirt. When she had discarded the garment, she lowered herself on top of him and started licking his bare chest.  
  
ESTEBAN, WAKE UP.  
  
She put an eager expression on her face and floated down to Esteban's waist. With anticipation tightening his chest, the young noble watched as she undid his belt. . .  
  
. . .and punched him hard in the head.  
  
"Damn it, Esteban!" she shouted in a surprisingly masculine voice. "We're under attack!"  
  
"Hunh?" Esteban opened his eyes and found himself looking up at a very upset crewmate.  
  
"Come on, you idiot," the crewmate growled at him. "Get your flagpole down and get out of bed. The Red Sands decided to jump us in the middle of the night."  
  
"Alright," Esteban said while trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Can you uh, give me a minute to uh, settle down?"  
  
"No. Now get up and let's go."  
  
Esteban did as he was told, throwing on his pants and moving quickly through the mass of panicked sailors to the weapons cabinet, where his rapier was located. He didn't bother to attach the sword to his belt, seeing as how there was no time to waste, and charged out with his comrades onto the deck to greet the enemy.  
  
Already bodies were underfoot. Some belonged to the crew of the Isabella, some were those of pirates. Esteban searched for an opponent, as he had been trained to do. He heard a shout very close behind him, and turned just in time to see a pirate swing a cutlass at him. Esteban blocked awkwardly with his sword still in its scabbard, pushing the cutlass away and drawing his rapier. He made sure not to discard the scabbard, however, since he might be able to use it in this battle.  
  
The pirate showed definite skill, driving Esteban backwards with every stroke. The noble threw himself into a defensive maneuver, keeping the cutlass away from his body as though his life depended on it--which, he suddenly realized, was true in so many ways. The pirate lunged as he thrust his blade forward. Parrying desperately, Esteban responded by banging his adversary in the head with his rapier's scabbard. It was not an effective blow, but the pirate stumbled enough so that Esteban could drive the point of his blade home. The pirate looked surprised and fell to the deck.  
  
Stepping over his fallen enemy, Esteban looked around the carnage to find his next pirate. The scene he beheld was nothing short of chaotic. Blood was flying through the air, people suddenly dropped below sight, and no one seemed to be paying Esteban any mind. Through the battle, the young noble could see the pirate ship alongside the Isabella. The Old Glory was moving into position to let her raiders board the aircraft that had so rudely awakened the bounty hunters of the Isabella.  
  
Had this been dueling, Esteban would have been more than happy to sit back and let the fight play out. But he remembered that he would not still be alive if he had fought fair, and so snuck up behind a pirate whose attention was occupied by a wounded bounty hunter and ran him through.  
  
"I would've had him," Esteban's crewmate growled.  
  
"You can have the next guy," the noble returned. "Let's go."  
  
With Jacob's crew entering the fray, the tide of battle increasingly favored the bounty hunters. Esteban did not kill anyone else that night, but he did fight a few pirates who were dispatched by others or surrendered. Once or twice he caught a glimpse of Diego giving the enemy hell. He would later learn that Rico had been badly wounded, but would survive nonetheless.  
  
The pirates were eventually driven back onto their own ship, where their captain surrendered. While he cheered with his comrades, Esteban noticed something peculiar about the flag on the pirate ship.  
  
"Uh, Captain?" Esteban said after finding Diego, who was overseeing the pirates' being bound and taken to the brig. "I think you should take a look at the enemy's flag. They're not from the Red Sands."  
  
"Hm?" Diego took his pupil's suggestion. "What the bloody hell. . . Bring me the pirates' captain!" he bellowed. The Isabella's crew did as they were ordered and forced their defeated enemy to his knees before the bounty hunter.  
  
"Well?" the pirate inquired. "Did you want to talk to me or what?"  
  
"I want to know just who the hell you are," Diego answered in an icy voice.  
  
"Isn't it obvious? We're pirates."  
  
"Answer the question, you dog, I'm in no mood to play games."  
  
The pirate sighed.  
  
"If you must know," he explained, "we're Blue Rogues. We heard that someone in a white Valuan battleship was gunning for our friend Zahn. Seems he even got himself a fleet to do the job. We couldn't let him get away with it, so we decided to hunt him down and give him a piece of our minds."  
  
"I see," Diego said with a chill still in his voice. "So that is why you attacked my ship in the middle of the night? That strikes me as a very un- Blue Rogues act. And perhaps you should have heard more carefully. Two of your fellow Blue Rogues joined my fleet, because your friend Zahn is a warlord and a murderer."  
  
The pirate barked out a short laugh.  
  
"You're lying," he said smugly. "And while we're here, why don't I ask the obligatory question, what are you going to do with me and my crew?"  
  
"I haven't decided," Diego replied. "I could simply throw you all overboard, and I must say it's a tempting proposition--"  
  
"No," a strong voice interrupted. Esteban looked in the direction from which it had come and saw Piastol stepping into view.  
  
"Let him go," Piastol said. "Tell him to go to Maramba. Then we shall see what he thinks of his friend."  
  
"Forgive me, Miss Piastol," Diego responded, "but I fail to see how that would help."  
  
"Please trust me," Piastol insisted. Slowly, the elder bounty hunter nodded, comprehension dawning on him.  
  
"Very well then," he said. "Esteban, tell the crew to release the pirates. As for you," he added, turning again to the pirate, "I suggest you take her advice and pay a visit to Maramba. Or, I should say, to what remains of it. I'm sure the survivors there will have plenty to say about Zahn and the Red Sands Gang."  
  
~~~~  
  
After the pirates had left, no one could possibly sleep, so the Old Glory and Isabella got an early start on the new day. The sun was about to rise anyway, so little sleep was lost among the crews.  
  
Piastol tried not to let it show, but the battle had shaken her greatly. She had experience in the matter, but, once again, things were different now. Even more disturbing was the fact that she didn't remember if she had killed anyone or not. An image of a pirate falling before her lingered in her mind and her scythe had blood on it, so it was likely that she had taken at least one life. She hoped, however, that she had only wounded the enemy.  
  
The next week was uneventful, spent performing routine chores and draining the water supply. That was the greatest difficulty of sailing in Nasr--the near-constant need for water. The precious liquid was hard enough to come by in most areas, but in the desert it was as rare as a bird with teeth. Adding to the hardship was the heat, which sucked life and moisture from almost every living thing. The Red Moon was harsh and unforgiving, and why anyone would worship it was beyond Piastol.  
  
It wasn't long before Jacob and Diego decided that it was time to return to Nasrad. Besides, it was almost the time appointed for the fleet to assemble there anyway. Piastol, for one, was looking forward to a break. She was yearning for a bath and the chance to get away from the leering eyes of her crewmates. It wasn't that she was the only female member of the crew, she just happened to be the most attractive female member who wasn't married--and she was a legend among bounty hunters, which didn't help matters one bit.  
  
Nasrad was almost exactly the same as when the bounty hunters left it: busy, bustling, and afraid. The only difference was that there were new ships in the harbor. Piastol recognized a few of them; Stryker's ship was docked along with those of a few of the other fleet members.  
  
Piastol was the first one off the ship when it had been moored next to the Isabella. The one thing she wanted was to find the baths and refresh herself there. Before she got very far, she ran into Stryker, who had come to greet the Old Glory and Isabella.  
  
"Good afternoon," he said companionably--or as companionably as he seemed capable of showing. "I see you kept yourself in one piece."  
  
"Yes, and that is quite lucky when one is used to bait pirates into a trap. How have you fared?"  
  
"Not bad. Took down one of the enemy's ships. You?"  
  
"We destroyed a single ship as well. We were also visited by a band of Blue Rogues who were unaware of Zahn's reign of terror."  
  
"Really? What did you do with 'em?"  
  
"Diego desired to throw them overboard, but I convinced him to let them go, and I told them to go to Maramba."  
  
"I see," Stryker said with a nod. "But there might be more of them coming to bother us."  
  
"And if your cousin were to come?" Piastol asked. Stryker met her question with a snort.  
  
"I'll just beat the shit out of him. He'll see things my way eventually."  
  
"That seems awfully overconfident of you, O Ironfist."  
  
"And my cousin isn't? Speaking of overconfidence, did Esteban handle himself okay out there?"  
  
"More or less. I believe he may yet become a capable bounty hunter."  
  
"That'll be a shocker," Stryker muttered. "Well, you go have fun while you can. Zahn's planning something big; I need to talk to Diego about it."  
  
"I will see you later then," Piastol said. "Do you, by chance, know where the baths are?"  
  
"Through the gate, go down about ten blocks, and take a left," Stryker answered after some thought. The pair exchanged farewells and went their separate ways.  
  
A hot wind blew from the east as Piastol made her way through the crowded harbor to find the gate. If there was ever a sight that could make her nervous, it was that of people in a near-panic loading their belongings onto freighter ships bound for anywhere outside of Nasr. She wished she had asked Stryker what exactly Zahn was plotting for the desert kingdom, because knowing the details of something terrible happening was greatly preferable to being left ignorant and having to guess. Piastol hoped that a hot bath would ease her mind, but deep down she knew that it would help only to make her physically clean.  
  
A particularly dense group of people blocked her path, trying to be on the first ship out of the country. She pushed herself through and stopped dead in her tracks. Standing directly in front of her was Doc. And next to him, with tears welling up in her eyes, was Maria. 


	13. To Make a Stand

With the Isabella secured in the dock, its crew eagerly began to depart the ship, chatting of what they were going to do to enjoy their well-earned shore leave. Diego watched them file off the deck and into the city, reflecting on how easily they got over their crewmates' deaths in the battle just a week prior. It was a difficult thing to learn, but a quick recovery from the death of a friend was necessary when working on a ship that saw battle as often as the Isabella. It was something Diego himself had been forced to learn in the Valua-Nasr War.  
  
"Diego."  
  
"Yes?" The noble-turned-bounty hunter turned his gaze toward the direction from which the voice had come. Stryker stood before him, his face set in its usual grim mood.  
  
"We have a problem. Zahn's planning something big, and it's got everyone here worried," the younger bounty hunter informed him.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Take a look around. There are transport ships all over the harbor, and they sure as hell aren't dropping anyone off."  
  
Diego did look around, and saw that Stryker was right. The Nasrad harbor was busy as usual, but it was clear that more people were trying to leave than to get in.  
  
"Do you know what this is about?" Diego inquired.  
  
"No," Stryker replied. "But the Sovereignty Council's holding a meeting today at noon. We might be able to find something out there."  
  
"I see. All right, then. Did you and Ryujin have any luck finding enemy ships?"  
  
"Sure did. Brought down one of them, but didn't find anything else. The other groups had the same luck; each of 'em got one."  
  
"Good. I'll be at the Capitol waiting for the Council's meeting to begin." Diego started to leave, but his colleague held a hand in front of him before he took more than two steps.  
  
"Hold on," Stryker said. "What are you going to do at the Capitol?"  
  
"Whatever I can to ensure the Red Sands' defeat," Diego replied simply.  
  
~~~~  
  
Piastol and Maria were alone in the room at the inn that Doc had reserved. Once she was sure that the door was locked, Piastol spoke.  
  
"Maria. . ." she began.  
  
"Don't say anything," Maria interrupted with a choked voice. "I'm doing the talking.  
  
"How could you do this? How could you leave me and Doc? Did you just all of a sudden decide that you wanted to be a bounty hunter again? You know it wasn't pirates that killed Father, so what are you doing here?"  
  
"When I took Rafik to Maramba--"  
  
"I read the note," Maria said, once again cutting her sister off. "But how do you know those were pirates and not someone framing them? I mean, Vyse-- "  
  
"The majority of pirates are nothing like Vyse!" Piastol snapped. "They are bloodthirsty murderers and thieves who feel no remorse for what they do to people!"  
  
"Kind of like you?"  
  
Piastol blanched.  
  
"That's why all those sailors were afraid of you," Maria stated. "Because they knew who you were. They knew WHAT you were. And you--" The tears came freely now as Maria struggled to make herself speak the words. "You never even told me. Why didn't you tell me!? You didn't think I could handle it!? I thought you were dead for seven years! I was all alone! And now you go and you LEAVE ME AGAIN!!"  
  
"I had to!" Piastol shouted. "I couldn't just stay back after what I saw at Maramba! You read my note, Maria, but you could never truly understand what I saw there unless you were to experience it for yourself. If you don't believe me, go there yourself! I have been cursed with flashbacks of that day, and until I and the bounty hunters stop the Red Sands I will never be rid of them."  
  
"So is that why you're here? Because you didn't want to let other people take care of it? The other bounty hunters would do just fine without you! Why did you have to go?"  
  
"I don't know exactly," Piastol answered. "It's just. . . It's part of who I am."  
  
"But you're gonna die!" Maria insisted. "I don't wanna lose you again!"  
  
So that was it. Maria wasn't angry because Piastol never told her about the past, she was worried because her big sister--the only blood family she had left--was fighting a nearly impossible battle and might not come back alive.  
  
"I won't die," Piastol said. "I promise you that I will return with life still in my body."  
  
"Please," Maria pleaded. "Just come home."  
  
Home. . .  
  
~~~~  
  
Jacob hurried over to the inn and threw open the door. The lobby was occupied by only the innkeeper and a man in a white coat sitting on the couch. Yes, the witnesses had said that a man in a white coat was with them.  
  
"Can I help you?" the innkeeper asked.  
  
"I'm just looking for a friend of mine," Jacob answered. "Someone told me she came in here. She's wearing a white blouse with sleeves to the elbow and dark blue trousers."  
  
"Who are you?" asked the man in the white coat while eyeing the bounty hunter suspiciously.  
  
"I'm her--" Jacob caught himself. He was about to say "father," and that would have most certainly been a lie. "I am her mentor," he answered calmly.  
  
"I see," the stranger said. "So you're the one who taught her all that stuff?"  
  
"If by 'stuff' you mean how to fight, how to sail, and how to track a pirate, then yes. Yes I am."  
  
Both men stood there for a moment, sizing each other up while trying not to look hostile. It was clear that each of them cared about Piastol, but all the same they did not exactly trust one another. Their silence was broken by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. Piastol and her sister appeared, both plainly shaken by their unexpected reunion. The sister went into the waiting embrace of the man in the white coat, while Piastol leaned against the wall and buried her face in her hand. Jacob walked over to her and carefully coaxed Piastol's hand away. Gently, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her tears with it.  
  
"Thank you." Piastol mouthed out the words, but her voice said nothing.  
  
"Do you want to go home?" Jacob asked quietly.  
  
Piastol shook her head.  
  
"I can't," she whispered.  
  
"I hate to interrupt," the innkeeper broke in, "but if you all are planning on staying here, I'm only going to keep the inn open for a few more days."  
  
"Why?" Jacob inquired.  
  
"You haven't heard? The Red Sands Gang just sent a letter to the Sovereignty Council. They said that if the Council doesn't name their boss the new leader of Nasr, they'll destroy Nasrad. And no matter what happens, I'm not sticking around to see it."  
  
"They can't do that, can they?" asked the man in the white coat.  
  
"They still have fifteen ships left," Jacob replied. "They just might be able to make good on their threat. All right, I'm going to go let Diego know what's going on," he told Piastol. "Be back at Old Glory by sundown."  
  
Piastol nodded, and Jacob set off for the Capitol to find Diego.  
  
~~~~  
  
The sun showed no mercy as Diego waited outside the Capitol for noon to come, and for the Council's meeting to begin. He regretted dressing in his finest clothes, because they were the most uncomfortable to wear in the heat of Nasr. He could simply change into more casual wear, but that would have been inappropriate for a meeting with government officials.  
  
Others waited with him, giving him some very unpleasant looks. It was obvious he was a noble of Valua, and no matter how much the new Emperor did to heal the wounds of the past, there would never be any real friendship between Nasr and the Empire. In fact, it was doubtful that the Empire would ever outrun any of her past sins--slavery in Ixa'taka, a reign of terror in the Mid Ocean, treachery in Yafutoma--the list went on and on. Diego began to hope that noon would come soon, because it did not look as though he would be able to avoid vengeful attacks as deftly as the Emperor.  
  
Thankfully, though, the doors to the Capitol were opened and people were at last allowed to enter. The guards gave Diego looks similar to those he had endured from the other people.  
  
"Diego, wait!" someone shouted behind him. The bounty hunter turned to see Jacob running up.  
  
"Wait," Jacob repeated. "I found out what Zahn is planning. He sent a demand to the Council to name him the new leader of Nasr."  
  
"And if they refuse?"  
  
"Then he'll destroy Nasrad."  
  
"I doubt he'd be able to do that," said Diego thoughtfully. "He shouldn't have more than fifteen ships by now, since each group destroyed one ship. Remember, the fleet Ramirez used to attack this place had twenty-five vessels, and they didn't destroy it. But thank you, I'll be sure to talk about this with the Council."  
  
"What?" Jacob demanded.  
  
"I'm going to testify at the meeting and tell them about our resistance. Of course, I'll be sure to encourage them not to give in to Zahn's demands."  
  
"Hold on a second," Jacob said as he rubbed his temples. "You're a Valuan noble, you fought in the Valua-Nasr War, and you're just going to waltz on in there and tell them what to do?"  
  
"Yes, that's correct."  
  
"Have you lost your damn mind?"  
  
"Of course not," Diego scoffed. "Don't worry so much, Jacob, I know what I'm doing." With that, he turned around sharply and strode off to the meeting chamber of the Sovereignty Council before Jacob could get in another word. Unable to stop his friend, Jacob went with him. If things went sour, Diego would need someone to help him get out quickly.  
  
The chamber in which the Nasrean Sovereignty Council was not exactly impressive, but it served its purpose well and it allowed citizens to listen and make their concerns known. A dais held five chairs and desks, one for each member of the Council. One by one, the leaders of Nasr filed into the room through a door behind the dais and took their seats. The Chairman sat at the center desk, tapped a gavel on his desk's top and announced that the meeting was begun and people could come forward with their concerns.  
  
Over the next hour, people voiced their opinions, most saying that they did not want Nasrad to face destruction again, while a few pleading with the Council to fight the Red Sands. Wishful thinking: all of the admirals in Nasr's navy were either dead or paid off by Zahn. Eventually, Diego found an opportunity to speak, and walked over to stand before the Council.  
  
"Who are you?" one of the Council members demanded.  
  
"I am Lord Diego de la Roma," the bounty hunter replied.  
  
Great idea, Jacob thought sarcastically, give them your full name and title so they know for sure that you're a Valuan noble. That'll get them to listen to you.  
  
"And what are you doing here?" the Council pressed.  
  
"I am here to tell you," Diego said, "that I have assembled a fleet of my fellow bounty hunters to fight the Red Sands Gang. Refuse the enemy's demands, and my comrades and I will handle whatever they can throw at Nasrad."  
  
"Oh really? And how many ships does your fleet have?"  
  
"Nine."  
  
"That's all?" the Council scoffed. "Nine ships against their twenty?"  
  
"Correction," Diego responded. "My fleet has succeeded in destroying five ships of the Red Sands Gang. They have fifteen now."  
  
"So? You are still outnumbered."  
  
"Numbers mean nothing in the long run. My fleet is made up of bounty hunters, and the best there is at that. We can defeat them."  
  
"Enough," the Chairman of the Council snapped. "We do not need to be told how to protect our people, especially by Valuans."  
  
"If you will only hear me out--"  
  
"This meeting is adjourned." The Chairman slammed the gavel on his desk and led the other Council members out of the chamber. The citizens who came to the meeting walked out as well, muttering jokes at Diego's expense. Jacob walked over to his friend, who stood with his head hung dejectedly.  
  
"I hate to say 'I told you so,'" Jacob said quietly. There was no response. "What now?"  
  
"Meet me at the Isabella this evening," said Diego. "I'll assemble the other captains as well. No matter what happens, we're going to keep fighting." Without another word, he strode out of the Capitol, head held high. 


	14. Flight of the Dragonfly

Esteban could not believe that there was another captains' meeting that he could not attend. It was even worse now, because he wasn't even assigned guard duty outside the meeting. Instead, he and his crewmates passed the time by playing cards and talking about what would happen next. By now, everyone knew about the demands Zahn had sent the Nasrean government and Diego's visit to the Capitol, and everyone had a different theory about what their captain was planning. Some said that he was going to pack it up and leave, others seemed certain he was going to make a huge assault against the enemy's base when they least expected it.  
  
"There's only one way to find out," Esteban commented.  
  
"Yeah," one of his crewmates replied. "Wait for him to tell us."  
  
"Now where would the fun be in that?"  
  
~~~~  
  
"Before we make any decisions," Diego began when all of the captains were seated at the table in the conference room of the Isabella, "we need to know if Zahn is capable of carrying out his threat to destroy Nasrad."  
  
"We all know he can't," the Blue Rogue Khazim declared. "He only has fifteen ships now. That's not nearly enough."  
  
"He would not make this threat in the first place unless he thought he could," Ryujin countered. "I think it's safe to assume that he has the means to at least seriously damage the city."  
  
"He would need a very powerful weapon in that case," the Ixatakan captain said.  
  
"It could be a bomb of some kind," Jacob remarked. "I heard that Valua once worked on developing a bomb powerful enough to wipe out an entire island."  
  
"That project was never completed," Diego said. "Even if it was, how could Zahn get his hands on secret Valuan military technology?"  
  
"Well he was a pirate to begin with, wasn't he?" Stryker reminded him.  
  
"He might not be able to destroy the city after all," Centime mused.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Ryujin sneered.  
  
"Think about it," Centime insisted. "He seemed pretty content just to make life miserable in Nasr. All of a sudden, we show up, wipe out a fourth of his fleet, and now he's demanding to be named leader of Nasr. It sounds like a desperate move if you ask me. He knows we're a threat to his power, too. Otherwise he wouldn't have sent that assassin."  
  
"He's got a point," Stryker admitted.  
  
"Maybe so, but we can't take that chance," the Ixa'takan said. "Someone needs to go to the enemy's base and find out for sure."  
  
"That seems to be our best course of action," Diego conceded. "But who should go?"  
  
The room was silent. Whoever went on this mission would likely never come back. Everyone looked around at each other, expecting someone besides themselves to volunteer.  
  
"Oh hell, I'll do it," Stryker finally barked. "If the rest of y'all are too damn scared. . ."  
  
"Wait a minute!" Ryujin interrupted. "I think I hear something."  
  
Diego slowly drew his pistol from his pocket and made his way toward the door. The others did likewise. Counting softly to three, Diego flung open the door and he and the other captains leveled their weapons at a very surprised--and now very pale--Esteban and Rico.  
  
"What in the moons' names are you two doing here!?" Diego demanded, silently relieved that there was no sniper this time.  
  
Esteban smiled sheepishly.  
  
"Uh. . . Out for a walk?" he stammered.  
  
~~~~  
  
Stryker strode confidently back to the Dragonfly, chuckling to himself as he remembered how Diego had blown up at his protégé. But that wasn't nearly as funny as how Esteban and Rico made up dumb-ass excuses for themselves. They tried any story to explain what they were doing, no mater how implausible. Stryker still couldn't believe the idiots actually said that they were looking for a stray hruska that had wandered onto the ship.  
  
It was good to have one last laugh before going on a near-suicidal reconnaissance mission. He wasn't sure how Cage or the rest of his crew would take the news, but either way he knew they would follow orders to the best of their abilities. They had too much trust in him to leave now.  
  
Cage was waiting for him on deck when he arrived.  
  
"So what are we going to do?" the vice captain inquired.  
  
"Keep fighting, of course," Stryker answered. "But we get a special job."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"We're going to sneak up on Zahn's base to see if he can carry out the threat he sent the Council. It'll be a quick job; we just see what the enemy has, leave, and hope like hell they don't see us."  
  
"You know, I think I'm coming down with something--"  
  
"Oh, blow it out your ass. We leave first thing in the morning."  
  
~~~~  
  
The sky that next morning was a blood red. Sailors were usually very superstitious, and a red morning sky was one of the worst omens in the book. The crew asked if they could make the voyage to the enemy's base the next day, but Stryker flatly refused. He did not believe in omens and spirits and ghosts; it was all nonsense to him. If a ship ran into bad luck while at sky, it was pure chance, not because someone on the crew shot an albatross or saw a shark.  
  
Centime had said that the base was fifty leagues east of Cape Victory, which was almost directly southeast of Nasrad. It would take two and a half days to reach that location; about six for the entire trip. The plan Stryker had in mind was simple: use all available means of cover and hope like hell they didn't get spotted while at the base. Getting caught would mean almost certain death, as the Dragonfly was only one ship against the enemy's fifteen.  
  
The journey was filled with unspoken fears and unnerving silence. Not one vessel crossed the Dragonfly's path. Once, the lookout sighted a ship far into the distance off the port side; there was no way to tell if it was part of the Red Sands or not but Stryker took no chances and hid the Dragonfly in a nearby rock reef until the horizon was clear. The next day, they found the enemy's home.  
  
Zahn's base of operations was located on a rather large island that looked like a mountain that had broken away from its range. It didn't look like there was a single spot of flat land anywhere on it. A harbor had been built into the bottom of the island, with a gate allowing ships to dock on the inside. Stryker ordered his ship behind a rock, with the crow's nest peeking over the top of it. No one was to make a sound.  
  
For two hours, the lookout monitored the base, searching for anything that looked like a weapon that could destroy a city--not that he had any idea what such a thing would look like. He must have used common sense, however, because he dropped his telescope and climbed out of the crow's nest with a look of crisis on his face.  
  
"Captain, I think you better take a look at this," he stammered. "I don't know what it is, but I have a real bad feeling about it."  
  
Stryker accompanied the lookout back to the crow's nest and put the telescope to his eye.  
  
"See there?" the lookout said, pointing. "Just above and to the right of the base; that ship there. What do you suppose that thing on her bow is?"  
  
"Holy mother of shit," Stryker whispered. He returned to the bridge as fast as he could. "We need to get back to Nasrad NOW," he ordered the helmsman. "Get us the hell out of here."  
  
"We've been spotted!" the lookout shouted. "Two of 'em are headed straight for us!"  
  
"All hands on deck!" Stryker barked. "I don't want to see a single idle crewman; if you don't have anything to do, find something! Gun crew, get those moonsdamn cannons ready!"  
  
The Dragonfly suddenly came alive with activity; everyone on board found a job and set to work on it. Not a moment was spared as the crew desperately turned their craft towards Nasrad and made a mad dash towards safety. Now they were in full view of the enemy, and all hope of secrecy was gone.  
  
A few shots roared from the enemy ships, none of which hit. The Dragonfly's gunners returned the favor without bothering to see how much damage they did. There was no point in staying to fight; other ships would just appear to help their partners in crime. The only option was flight.  
  
The winds began to shift, gradually blowing more from the south. This was very bad; the enemy might be able to steal the Dragonfly's wind and catch her. Stryker made sure his sails were full and had someone with knowledge of blue magic get out on deck and cast the speed spell known as Quicka. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing and it kept the gap between the Dragonfly and her pursuers nice and wide. It wasn't wide enough, however, for the Dragonfly to be out of the range of the enemy's cannons. The ship lurched and shuddered as a shot slammed into the stern.  
  
"We can't keep this up forever!" Cage warned his captain. "We need to lose them somehow!"  
  
"Naw, you think!?" Stryker growled with sarcasm soaking his voice. He turned his attention to the helmsman. "Find us a nice big clump of clouds and get us in there. And don't put us in the enemy's line of fire or you'll be sorry."  
  
"Aye Cap'n," the helmsman replied. "Already have some clouds in sight, off the port bow. They'll never catch us."  
  
"Good. Get ready to turn hard to starboard when we're in there."  
  
In a few minutes the world went suddenly white. Once he was sure the entire ship was out of view, Stryker ordered a hard starboard turn that almost knocked the lookout out of the crow's nest. Luck was with the bounty hunters, it seemed, because a canyon hove into view below the Dragonfly just as the cloud was exited. Anticipating his captain's orders, the helmsman steered the ship into rift and sailed on through it. To the cheers of his shipmates, the lookout declared that the enemy ships were nowhere in sight.  
  
"This is no time to relax!" Stryker barked at them. "We still need to get back to Nasrad; now keep working!"  
  
~~~~  
  
The City on the Oasis was a welcome sight. There were considerably fewer people now, since many had fled out of fear of the Red Sands. Those that remained did so because they were not afraid or because they had no money with which to pay for a ticket out of the desert. Stryker tried to look on the bright side of things, reminding himself that now it would be easier to find a place to dock.  
  
He didn't waste any time in seeking out the other bounty hunters. As soon as the Dragonfly was moored he set out into the half-deserted city and headed straight for the Old Glory. Jacob was sitting on the deck of his ship, apparently deep in thought.  
  
"Ahoy there," Stryker called up to him. "Mind if I talk to you for a second?"  
  
Jacob looked surprised to see Stryker, but smiled.  
  
"Welcome back," the mentor greeted. "Sure, come on up."  
  
"This place is turning into a damn ghost town," Stryker remarked conversationally when he joined Jacob on deck. The aging man nodded.  
  
"At least it's quiet now," he said. "Don't have to put up with all the hustle and bustle."  
  
"Damn straight. Where's your crew? Shouldn't they be here?"  
  
"Oh, most of them are in town. The rest are down below getting some shuteye."  
  
"Is Piastol with them?"  
  
"No. She's been pretty hard to find these last few days. Her sister caught up with her, and they got into this huge fight. I asked her if she wanted to go home, but she said she couldn't. What's really frustrating is, I don't know why and I'm not sure even she knows. She disappears during the day now and comes back at lights out. Don't ask me where she goes; I haven't got the slightest idea."  
  
"Poor girl," Stryker murmured. For a long time, no words were spoken.  
  
"So," Jacob said, wanting to break the silence, "did you find the base all right?"  
  
"Yeah. It's right where Centime said it was; fifty leagues east of Cape Victory. And I found something else out: we're in serious trouble."  
  
"You mean Zahn can destroy the city after all?"  
  
"Yep. He outfitted one of his ships with something that could do the job in just a few shots."  
  
"What in the six moons could do that?"  
  
Stryker got up and turned to gaze out into the empty sky.  
  
"Jacob, do you know what a Moon Stone Cannon is?"  
  
~~~~  
  
Esteban guided the man they called Ironfist through the empty, deserted district of Nasrad, searching for the place where he had seen Piastol the other day. It seemed she had found herself a nice little courtyard where she could be alone, undisturbed by the rest of the world. He had heard all of the stories about the Angel of Death and could understand why she would want some space, but for the life of him could not understand why Stryker of all people was so insistent on finding her. The almost-gigantic bounty hunter clearly didn't care about people very much and never let his emotions (with the exception of anger) control his actions, so why was Piastol so important? It was a question that begged for an answer, but Esteban had a feeling he would be hurt very badly if he voiced it.  
  
"How much farther is it?" Stryker demanded to know.  
  
"We should be getting close," Esteban replied. He stopped when they reached a fork in the path through the ruins. One path went left, another went right, and neither looked very familiar.  
  
"Which way?"  
  
"Uh. . . Crap. I think it's this way," Esteban said, choosing the left path.  
  
"You better be right," Stryker warned.  
  
Esteban was right, as it turned out. After a few minutes, a courtyard appeared to the right. Piastol was sitting on a bench in the center, staring off into nothing.  
  
"There you are," the young noble chirped. "See, I told you I knew where it was."  
  
"Good. Now leave us the hell alone."  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
"So that I don't beat the shit out of you."  
  
"All right, all right," Esteban said, turning to leave. He briefly considered bringing up the fact that he was the only one who knew the ruins well enough to find the way back to the harbor, but decided not to say anything.  
  
Once his guide was gone, Stryker took a deep breath and walked slowly walked up to Piastol. She was staring intently at a heap of junk metal, either not noticing him or not caring if he was there.  
  
"I think it was once a playground," she said, gesturing at the wreckage. Apparently she had noticed him after all. "Look at that piece in the back. It almost looks like a set of swings. Then the Sixth Fleet came along, and now it's gone. All gone."  
  
Stryker took a seat next to her.  
  
"They built new playgrounds, you know," he said quietly, knowing exactly where his friend was going with this. "Just because one thing disappears doesn't mean something else won't come along."  
  
"But it will never be the same," Piastol said. Her eyes were red, but dry. "No matter what comes after, it can never replace what was lost. I'm no better than the people that destroyed this playground, Stryker. So many years I spent doing the same thing the Armada did here, ruing lives and killing people. And now my sister--" she sobbed "I abandoned my sister and ruined her life. I will die here in the desert and take away forever the only family she has left."  
  
It was clear now. Piastol was hiding here because for the first time in ten years, she was afraid to die. At last she had something to lose, something to keep her alive. Gently, Stryker placed his arm around her.  
  
"You'll be fine," he told her. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you, no matter what."  
  
She leaned against him, resting her head against his chest. It did feel good, to be held like this. She shifted her body a little closer to his.  
  
"What am I doing here?" she wondered out loud.  
  
"I'm not a psychiatrist, but I guess you're trying to make up for your past. What the Red Sands and Zahn are doing is worse than all the things you ever did as a bounty hunter put together. And if we stop them, maybe the Angel of Death will be gone for good." Stryker looked up at the sky. "The sun's starting to go down. We should get back."  
  
They stood up in unison.  
  
"Thank you," Piastol said. "I needed to hear that from someone."  
  
"No problem. If you need anything, just let me know."  
  
Piastol smiled, and Stryker returned the favor. She didn't deserve to be in such pain. From the first moment he met her, Stryker could see that there was a good person in her; she had just gotten lost in all the sorrow and despair of her life. And knowing that he had been able to ease her pain gave him one of the greatest feelings he had ever experienced. 


	15. The Bounty Hunters' Gamble

Two days later a notice arrived at the Capitol, addressed to the Sovereignty Council. It stated that the Red Sands Gang would arrive in three days, and when they did the Council was to either name Zahn leader of Nasr or watch as their city was reduced to dust. Word quickly spread, and soon Diego and his ragtag fleet were making plans to stop the enemy from ever coming within sight of Nasrad.  
  
For the first time, Diego and his comrades would be forced to take on Zahn's forces in an open battle in which they stood little or no chance of victory. It would take a miracle to win. And so Diego set to work trying to make one.  
  
~~~~  
  
"There's a straight just to the south of the city," Khazim told the others. "If these guys are going for a showy entrance--which they probably are-- that's the route they'll take. It's pretty wide, but we should be able to do a lot of damage to them before they get too far."  
  
"They still have the Moon Stone Cannon," Centime warned. "I've seen one of those in action before, and you better believe they're going to use it when we attack."  
  
"It takes a minute to charge that thing before it can fire," Khazim responded. "We'll be able to see the blast coming. And it takes even longer to recharge."  
  
"All right, here's what I think," Diego broke in. "We cross the T at the straight at blast the enemy senseless. They'll answer with the Moon Stone Cannon, and we scatter as soon as it starts charging. The ship with that has the Moon Stone Cannon needs to be downed as soon as possible, preferably before it has a chance to fire off another shot. Now, at the back of the straight, we need to set a trap to keep them from escaping."  
  
Jacob cleared his throat.  
  
"I have an idea," he said. "Nasrean firebombs. When they go off, they release this kind of cloud of fire that keeps burning for a long time. They've proven very effective in the past."  
  
"And how do we use these in the trap?" Diego wondered.  
  
"Simple. We put a few of them on some little boats and position them at the back of the straight along with someone who knows some re magic. If the Red Sands tries to escape, the person we placed there casts a spell, blows up the bombs, and the remaining enemy ships get burned to a crisp."  
  
The other captains nodded and murmured their approval. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was good enough, and there was no real reason to reject it. Besides, there was only three days to prepare. The captains settled on their hastily prepared plan without dissent. Ryujin and Khazim volunteered to find the firebombs, and the meeting was adjourned.  
  
~~~~  
  
The next two days were a nightmare of anxiety and impatience. Stryker and his crew drilled almost constantly to make sure they were ready for the coming battle. The gun crew practiced until their aim was perfect, the helmsman and sail crew drilled with complex evasive maneuvers, and the raiders sparred and exercised from morning until night. No matter how much they did, Stryker could not be satisfied. They would be outnumbered and facing one of the most powerful weapons ever created--nothing would be enough.  
  
The sailors of the Dragonfly were not alone; every other ship in the fleet was going through the same thing. All ships except two: Ryujin and Khazim and their respective crews were busy locating the firebombs needed for the trap. Such weapons were hard to find; they had not been used for years and usually could only be found on the black market. Eventually, however, enough were found to satisfy the bounty hunters' needs.  
  
A fisherman was recruited to tow the small boats holding the firebombs into position. He was an old man, one who had lived in Nasrad his entire life and was not about to let it be conquered by a monster like Zahn. He was at once disappointed and relieved when he found out he would not take part in any of the actual fighting. Another citizen of Nasrad would join him, the one who volunteered to use his considerable skill in red magic to set off the fiery trap.  
  
On the third day, the Red Sands came.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Let's go!" Jacob shouted. "All hands get ready to set sail!"  
  
Piastol joined her crewmates on deck, pulling up the sails while the helmsman guided the Old Glory out of the harbor. Eight ships accompanied them, every one of them having little chance of returning.  
  
Through the panic of Nasradians scrambling into the city walls for safety or out of them to watch the battle, Piastol could see two figures standing calmly by, watching the ships pull out. It was Doc and Maria. They hadn't forsaken her, it seemed. In fact, they were waiting for her to come back to them. All she had to do was survive the battle, and she could spend the rest of her life helping the sick and never worry about leaving her sister again.  
  
Already the fisherman and his companion were making their own preparations to depart and sneak around to the back of the straight. They looked understandably nervous; they were going into a huge battle totally unarmed, save for the firebombs they towed behind them. The plan was for them to fly low, under the firefight and through the straight, where they would set the firebombs and hide until the enemy tried to escape.  
  
While all of the cannons were being loaded, the ships in the fleet kept close to the cliff wall near the mouth of the straight out of sight of anyone who might be in there. Diego didn't want the Red Sands to know they were waiting for them. The fisherman sailed ahead, and when he was halfway across the mouth, the mage who was with him waved a flag to signal that the enemy was coming.  
  
"Full speed ahead!" Jacob ordered. "Gun crew, get ready!"  
  
His order was repeated on all of the other ships. The Old Glory and her companions surged ahead and were presented nicely with the sight of fifteen enemy vessels, all with their bows turned towards them. Without needing to be told, the gunners opened fire. Two of the enemy went down without ever getting the chance to return fire; the others turned hard to get the unexpected welcoming party in their line of fire. In the midst of all the chaos and thunder of cannons, Piastol saw a single ship that was doing nothing. And a strange light was slowly growing brighter on her bow.  
  
"Moon Stone Cannon!" Piastol shouted.  
  
Almost immediately, the bounty hunters scattered. Most of them would have been safe anyway, because the legendary energy weapon was only pointed at one ship: a gleaming white Valuan battleship.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Get us out of the way, damn it!" Diego practically shouted.  
  
"I'm trying, sir," the helmsman insisted. "If we move to fast, we might run into one of the other ships!"  
  
While the Isabella possessed greater firepower and stronger armor than any other ship in the battle, it also had one major weakness: it moved like cold molasses. Diego should have seen this coming. Of course the enemy would use the Moon Stone Cannon on his ship; it presented the greatest threat and easiest target. Now he would pay for his oversight, very likely with the lives of his crew.  
  
"Incoming!" shrieked someone out on deck. Less than a second later, a great roar erupted around the Isabella as the destructive beam tore through the atmosphere. The ship lurched and shook violently, and Diego and some of his crew were thrown to the deck, but strangely there came no fire or explosions. The only sound that followed the blast was cheering.  
  
"They missed! They missed!" the deckhands were shouting.  
  
Diego released a breath he didn't even know he had been holding. Clearly, it had been a very near miss--otherwise the ship would not have shaken like it did--but it gave the bounty hunters the opportunity to destroy the Moon Stone Cannon before it could fire off another shot.  
  
And then the battle really started. The enemy ships were now in firing positions, and were unloading their cannons on the fools who had come to resist them. Ryujin's ship, being of Yafutoman design, flew up above the crossfire and proceeded to rain down death upon Zahn's forces. The Ixa'takans' craft lasted only a few minutes before dropping into the oblivion of Deep Sky. The bounty hunters dove into the straight, determined to keep the enemy from reaching Nasrad. They fought well, but it soon became clear who held the advantage and the tide of the firefight quickly turned in the favor of the Red Sands.  
  
Beneath the carnage, however, one small ship towing a number of rafts full of firebombs carefully made its way to the back of the straight.  
  
~~~~  
  
Stryker had found himself in a number of desperate situations before, but not one of them could compare to this. His ship wasn't in very good condition to begin with, since he hadn't been able to afford complete repairs in a long time, and his enemies' crafts were well-maintained and armed with better cannons. He was at a total disadvantage. Finally, an actual challenge.  
  
The Dragonfly was being pestered by a single enemy ship that was clearly captained by a rookie (or a bully. It was obvious he had never fought a ship that could shoot back.) The fool didn't even know what Stryker was about to do when he ordered his ship to a higher altitude. The bounty hunter had in his hand his trademark weapon--a scimitar so big that most people needed two hands to wield it. But Stryker was much bigger and stronger than most people.  
  
He tied himself to the aft rail of the Dragonfly with a very long rope, waiting for the enemy ship to get into the right position. The moment it had done so, Stryker leapt from the Dragonfly and swung through the air; sliced apart the enemy's rigging as he passed it, and let out a wild laugh. Now this was why he became a bounty hunter! The tactic was so unexpected that no one had bothered to try and shoot him, and soon he had grabbed hold of the Dragonfly's rail on the bow and was pulling himself on board. One more cut like that, and the enemy would be unable to turn.  
  
The Dragonfly's helmsman maneuvered the ship around to the enemy's other side, and Cage repeated the tactic (at his request) before the enemy had time to react. With no lines to hold their sails in place, Zahn's hapless minions were pushed around by the wind until they crashed into the wall of the straight and burst into flames.  
  
Stryker took a moment to assess the battle. Diego was pretty much having his way with the enemy, his metal ship casually shrugging off the brutal attacks it received and shredding anything that got too close with cannon fire. The Red Sands had fewer ships than the last time Stryker counted them, but so did the bounty hunters. Khazim's ship was in the process of plummeting through the air, destroyed by three of the enemy. The Red Sands were using their numbers to their advantage.  
  
"Take us over to that one," Stryker told the helmsman, pointing with his scimitar to a ship that was currently unengaged.  
  
"Aye, Cap'n," the helmsman replied. "One roasted pirate ship, coming up."  
  
This enemy was all too eager to get into a fight, and charged toward the Dragonfly as soon as he saw his challenger coming for him. The two combatant ships opened fire as they passed each other, the craft fighting for Zahn clearly inflicting more damage. Not one to be discouraged, Stryker ordered the Dragonfly to circle around to face her enemy again.  
  
"Hey Captain," Cage said. "I don't mean to sound pessimistic or anything, but I think we should pick a different fight."  
  
"Relax," Stryker told him casually. He grinned. "I have a plan. They're coming around on our port side. Have the crew put all the weight they can on that side, and don't bother with the starboard cannons; just load the port ones."  
  
"But that'll tilt the ship!"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Cage had a feeling he knew what his friend's plan was, and he wasn't sure it would work. At the moment, though, he was willing to try anything. A tilted ship was not a safe place to be, as it was likely to crash. Nonetheless, Cage and his crewmates did as they were told, and then the method to Stryker's madness made itself known. The more the Dragonfly tilted, the higher her helmsman raised it, until the bounty hunters were in a perfect position to fire down on their enemy without exposing themselves to harm. It had all happened so subtly that the captain of the targeted ship had no time to react. Stryker appeared out on deck and leveled his scimitar at the enemy vessel.  
  
"FIRE!"  
  
~~~~  
  
A muffled explosion came from the Old Glory's target, a telltale sign that the enemy's engines had been hit and destroyed. They had been so preoccupied firing torpedoes up at Ryujin's craft that they never even noticed the Old Glory sneaking up behind them until it was too late. Now they were sinking slowly, gradually faster, to the darkness below the clouds.  
  
"Piastol!" Jacob shouted over the din of battle. "Jen just fell down in the crow's nest! Get up there and check on her!"  
  
"Aye, sir!" Piastol responded, and climbed the rigging up to where the lookout was. Jen was crumpled face down in a heap on the floor of the nest, not moving a muscle. Carefully, Piastol rolled her crewmate over and saw that she had a bullet wound in her forehead. She had been killed by a sniper.  
  
A sniper who had seen Piastol climb into the crow's nest.  
  
Instantly, Piastol dove into the nest with her dead crewmate, feeling something whiz by her ear as she did so. She stayed there, not daring to lift her head up and give the sniper a target. She never got the chance to see the cannonball that sliced through the mast of the Old Glory. The only indication she got was the sudden feeling of the mast swaying back and forth . . . and then tumbling over the port gunwale.  
  
There was a rock in the middle of the straight. It was a rather large rock, covered with sand and in a perfect position on which the Old Glory's severed mast could land. Had it not been for that rock, Piastol would have fallen until she reached the fabled bottom of the world. The mast landed on the rock hard, spending Piastol and the body of Jen the lookout sprawling onto the sand. A sickening snap went through Piastol's body as her leg was broken by the impact. With pain making any significant movement impossible, she could only lie on her back and wonder how she could possibly survive this.  
  
High above the rock that had saved Piastol's life, Ryujin's ship suffered a direct hit from a torpedo, which sent debris flying through the air and down into nothing. The legendary Piastol saw this, and somehow she knew what would happen next. A shard of wood plummeted through the air, its sharp end pointing squarely downward. Her eyes followed that shard all the way through its fall until it landed and bit cruelly into her stomach. 


	16. The Sky is Burning

Another shot struck the Isabella, forcing Esteban to catch himself on the gunwale railing. Valuan ships were famous for their durability and firepower, but even they had limits. And Esteban wasn't sure how close the Isabella was to reaching those limits.  
  
By now the Red Sands had given up on trying to break the battleship's armor and was beginning to target her propellers instead. Once they were gone, the Isabella would sink below the clouds. Esteban had started to check on the propellers every time he felt the ship tremble. Every time he looked, the propellers were fine, but that did not comfort him in the least. Sooner or later, the bounty hunters would lose the battle, and the Red Sands would destroy Nasrad and kill thousands of people. Unless the ship with the Moon Stone Cannon were destroyed first.  
  
One of the ships started to make a bold charge against it, focusing all firepower onto that one ship. Within a minute, the Moon Stone Cannon started glowing, and the bounty hunter ship was shredded by the unstoppable energy blast as it ripped through the atmosphere. By sheer chance, the beam also struck a ship belonging to the Red Sands, condemning it to a slow descent into Deep Sky.  
  
It wouldn't take long before all of Diego's recruits were gone and the way to Nasrad was clear. Then all hope would be well and truly gone; pirates would gleefully begin to rampage across the skies unopposed and sink the world into terror and lawlessness. Esteban suddenly realized that the way to Nasrad already WAS clear--at least for the Moon Stone Cannon, and that would be more than enough to make the worst possible scenario a terrifying reality. No ships blocked the path of the ship carrying the dreaded weapon, no ships except for the badly damaged, mastless craft known as the Old Glory.  
  
~~~~  
  
Safely out of sight, at the back of the straight, the fisherman and his mage companion carefully positioned small boats full of Nasrean firebombs at specific points as they watched the progress of the battle. It seemed certain that the Red Sands would destroy their hometown. But when they did, they would eventually have to come back through the straight.  
  
And the two Nasreans would be waiting for them.  
  
~~~~  
  
The pain.  
  
It was everything, a white curtain of torment that blocked all sight and sound and thought. Pain from her broken leg, pain from the wooden shard that had found its way into her stomach, all of it told Piastol of the undeniable fact that she was dying. She could feel her lifeblood seep out of her body and onto the sand beneath her. Blood leaked into her throat, and she turned onto her side to cough it out. The movement sent unbearable agony throughout her body.  
  
This was an almost poetic way to die. Piastol had given so many pirates long and painful deaths, and now she was to share the same fate. It would take several minutes for her to die, and each and every one of those minutes would be spent in torment. I deserve this, she thought.  
  
Her vision gradually cleared, and the scene of the battle greeted her eyes. Then she realized that this was a part of her--this death, this violence. All of it defined who she was, and there could be no denying it.  
  
Sunlight glinted off of something in the corner of Piastol's field of vision. She turned her gaze towards it, and saw that a small green crystal had fallen from the pocket of the slain lookout Jen. No, not just any crystal. It was a healing crystal, and judging from the brightness of its glow it was strong enough to save her. She dismissed it, having accepted that her fate was to die here on the rock. Then Stryker's words came back to her: "You're trying to make up for your past." The only way for Piastol to truly atone for the sins she had committed was to survive and see that Nasr was saved.  
  
In slow, jerking motions, Piastol dragged her broken form over to the body of her crewmate. Pain marked every inch of her journey, insisting that she succumb to death, but still she pressed onward. Blood began to escape her more quickly than before, leaving a crimson trail as she moved across the sand. After what seemed like an eternity, her fingers closed around something hard and smooth. With the crystal in her grasp, Piastol used her free hand to grip the shard protruding from her stomach and failed to stifle a scream of agony as she wrenched it free of her flesh. Acting on blind instinct, Piastol clutched the crystal to her body and willed forth its magic.  
  
The wound made by the shard closed, the bones in the broken leg knit, and the pain transformed into a dull ache. Piastol coughed up the last of the leaked blood, and forced herself into a sitting position. She was badly weakened from loss of blood, sand and grit soiled her clothing, and she was alive.  
  
~~~~  
  
If Jacob didn't stop the Moon Stone Cannon ship, Nasrad would be as good as gone. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do. The Old Glory was running low on ammunition and many of her crew were dead from sniper fire. Even if the ship were in top condition, she wouldn't be able to damage the enemy enough to sink it.  
  
"Captain!" a voice shouted from below deck. Neil the engineer appeared, coughing out the smoke that had infiltrated his lungs. "The engine's almost gone! It took a hit a while ago and hasn't stopped smoking. I don't know exactly how long we'll be able to stay in the air, but it won't be more than ten minutes."  
  
Jacob looked around and took in the sight of his ship, his life. Fires had broken out on deck. The people he had sailed with for years, who had been like family, were gone. Maybe Piastol survived the mast's crashing onto that rock; he didn't know. Now the Old Glory was in her death throes, and so was he. There was only one thing left to do.  
  
"Neil," he said, "put all of the remaining fuel into the engine. If we're going down, we can at least go down fighting. We need to stop that Moon Stone Cannon."  
  
Neil nodded solemnly, fully understanding what Jacob was intending.  
  
"I'm damn proud to have sailed with you, Captain," he replied in an almost choked voice. He left.  
  
With a calm that surprised him, Jacob went over to the helm and took the wheel from the hands of the helmsman, who had been killed by a piece of shrapnel to the neck. It seemed appropriate, that he should guide Old Glory in her final moments. Straight ahead was the ship that carried the Moon Stone Cannon, moving triumphantly towards Nasrad.  
  
Jacob felt his ship and home put on a sudden burst of speed, and he steered hard toward the enemy craft. With the bounty hunter's intention made suddenly clear to them, the Red Sands sailors opened fire with every gun they had, tearing at what was left of the Old Glory. It wasn't enough. The bow of Jacob's ship drove itself into the enemy's hull, ensuring that there would be company on the path into the afterlife.  
  
It's funny, Jacob thought, this is always how Hakim said he wanted to die. . .  
  
~~~~  
  
Piastol looked on in utter horror, as tears crept down her face. The Old Glory rammed into the ship carrying the Moon Stone Cannon and suddenly she was there again, on her little lifeboat, watching her father's ship burn and die. Once again, pirates had taken him away while she was powerless to do anything about it.  
  
Nothing made sense. Maramba, the demands for sovereignty, killing Jacob-- it was all so random, so heartless. How could anyone do such things? What caused a human being to torment others so? And why? What did the people of Maramba ever do to anyone? What did the people of ever Nasrad do to anyone?  
  
This was part of who she was. She had the skills to fight and kill monsters like Zahn, and now she vowed to use them again. If stopping the Red Sands meant using some of their own tactics against them, then that was exactly what she would do.  
  
~~~~  
  
Diego closed his good eye and whispered a prayer in memory of one of the finest men he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. The last brave action of Jacob the Patriarch was so shocking that it caused a lull in the fighting. Many sailors were dumbstruck by what they had just seen, their eyes transfixed on the two burning ships until they vanished into the mists below.  
  
The loss of the Moon Stone Cannon, coupled with the determination the bounty hunter had just shown to stop them, dealt a sharp blow the Red Sands' morale. Seizing the opportunity, Ryujin renewed his attacks on the enemy, focusing on one single ship and sinking it within minutes. It wasn't long, however, before the Red Sands recovered from the shock and resumed their dominance of the battle. Nasrad was spared for now, but the Red Sands could simply build another Moon Stone Cannon and return whenever they wished--the bounty hunters would not be around much longer anyway.  
  
Then, from out of the north, a ship bearing the mark of the blue skull appeared and headed directly for the battle. A moment later it was followed by another ship, then another and another and another, until there were twelve ships in all closing in fast on the conflict. A wave of tension washed over the Isabella. Everyone on board was certain that this was the end; Zahn had tricked a number of Blue Rogues into helping him defeat his enemies. No one could figure out why Esteban was jumping up and down and shouting for joy.  
  
"Esteban, just what the hell are you so happy about?" Diego wanted to know.  
  
"Look at the flag on that ship leading them!" the protégé answered gleefully. "It's those pirates who attacked us in the middle of the night-- the ones Piastol sent to Maramba!"  
  
"How can you be sure--" Diego was suddenly cut off by a cannon shot fired from one of the newcomers. The shot sliced through the air and landed squarely on the hull of one of the Red Sands ships. On the spot, everyone on the Isabella broke out into cheers. It was the end all right, but it was a good end. Without the Moon Stone Cannon, there was no way the Red Sands could take on this many ships and win. Unwilling to stay and die, Zahn's forces broke and fled toward the back of the straight.  
  
~~~~  
  
It seemed that the fisherman and the mage would not need to wait as long as they thought they would. The Red Sands fleet was walking right into their little trap totally oblivious to the fiery demise that was waiting for them.  
  
As soon as the enemy was in position, the mage held up a red moon stone and focused his mind onto the destructive powers it contained. A blast of heat erupted in the middle of the field of life boats, causing them to explode in a chain reaction that sent a curtain of fire cascading downward onto the ships of the Red Sands.  
  
The enemy would, of course, try to put out the flames. But they would fail. Nasrean firebombs continued to burn whatever their fire touched long after they were set off. The Red Sands ships would be reduced to ashes before very long.  
  
With their task done and their country saved, the fisherman and mage shook hands, congratulated each other on a job well done, and went home.  
  
~~~~  
  
It was like a scene out of some surreal nightmare, watching all those ships burn. So many people were dying at once, and Piastol found that she did not feel any remorse. All she cared about was that those people who were burning on their ships would never, ever hurt anyone again.  
  
"Piastol!" someone shouted. She turned toward the voice and saw Stryker on the deck of his ship as it passed close to the rock she was on. Stryker jumped the distance between the Dragonfly and the rock and ran over to embrace his friend. She returned the favor, not wanting to let go. Jacob was gone, and now it seemed as though Stryker was the only one in the world who could comfort her.  
  
The man with the metal arm pulled away. Concern spread over his face as he saw the blood on the ground and on Piastol's clothing. His friend put a hand to his cheek.  
  
"I'm fine," she insisted, and for a moment their eyes met. Stryker swallowed.  
  
"All right," he said quietly.  
  
"Hey, you two!" Cage shouted from a life boat he was guiding to the rock. "I hate to interrupt, but we some things to do."  
  
"It's not over yet," Piastol stated. Stryker nodded. It wouldn't be really over until Zahn was taken care of.  
  
And so, with their ships badly damaged, the bounty hunters who remained set sail for the base of operations of the Red Sands Gang. Piastol looked forward to their arrival. 


	17. Blood Will Have Blood

Doc paced the harbor anxiously, waiting for someone to tell him what the hell was happening. The twelve Blue Rogue ships were hard to miss and served as an indicator that Nasrad was safe for the time being. But what of the bounty hunters? How many had survived? More importantly, what happened to Piastol?  
  
A commotion from the other people at the harbor woke the doctor from his thoughts. A fishing boat was arriving, and it had come from the strait where the battle had been fought. The moment it docked, people crowded around the boat's passengers and demanded to know how the battle had gone. The fisherman who captained the surrounded vessel raised his hands and called for silence.  
  
"The fleet of the Red Sands Gang was destroyed, to a man," he announced, and his audience broke out into cheers of nationalism and praises of the Red Moon and even a few comments on the courage of the bounty hunters.  
  
"How many of the bounty hunters survived?" one person asked.  
  
"Only four," the fisherman replied. Murmured prayers for the souls of those who were not among them.  
  
"What about the Old Glory?" Doc wanted to know, having committed the name of Piastol's ship to memory. "Did the Old Glory make it?"  
  
"Oh no sir, she went down--"  
  
Dozens of images flashed before Doc's eyes. He could see her amid a burning ship, getting shot by a sniper, falling into an endless abyss... Then the images changed to her life aboard the clinic ship, helping patients get comfortable, playing with her sister...  
  
"--but one of her crew was rescued. We weren't able to get a good look at who it was, but it was a young woman."  
  
Doc's heartbeat started beating again as hope of Piastol's survival sprang anew. He did not remember making his way out of the crowd. All of a sudden, Maria was standing in front of him, begging to know what he had found out.  
  
"Piastol's ship went down. But she might still be alive," he added quickly. "One person was rescued, a young woman." Maria's breathing turned shallow, and she stammered a little when she spoke.  
  
"Uncle Doc..." She struggled to find the words. "Is it okay if we stay? Just until the bounty hunters come back?"  
  
"Sure, no problem. We'll wait."  
  
~~~~  
  
Repairs to the ships were made on the voyage to Zahn's base. The skies were empty save for a few birds, and the only noise came from the engines of Diego's fleet--what remained of it, anyway. Only four ships had survived the carnage of the straight: Diego's, Stryker's, Ryujin's, and Centime's. All others had gone to an unpleasant death.  
  
Piastol was different now. She was not the same person Stryker had met at Sailor's Island. She ate little, spoke rarely, and kept her mind focused on only one thing: getting to the base of the Red Sands and finding Zahn. Her scythe had been on the Old Glory; fortunately, another had been found on the Dragonfly for her to use. Almost every waking moment of the day, she devoted herself to remembering her training with the weapon. Some of Stryker's crew volunteered to spar with her, eager to see what the legendary pirate killer was capable of. More than one had walked away with cuts and bruises and a solemn vow to never again spar with "that crazy bitch."  
  
Jacob's death was hard to face. Stryker met everyone's expectations and did not let an ounce of emotion show through his appearance, but inside he was hurting more than he ever had in his life. But what his attention was primarily focused on Piastol and what Jacob's death was doing to her. He had seen the good person inside of her, and now that person again seemed lost in a sea of despair and sorrow. It had crossed his mind that he could try to keep her from going into Zahn's base--the key word there being "try." Nothing would keep the Angel of Death from exacting her revenge, not even Stryker.  
  
The voyage took less time than when Stryker last made it, in part because there was no stealth involved. Zahn's base was now utterly defenseless, save for whatever guards and cannons the warlord kept there. This would be an all-out assault, a raid intended to capture Zahn and put an end to his reign of terror.  
  
The base hove into view late in the afternoon on the second day. As soon as they were close enough, Diego and his recruits gave the island a few volleys and proceeded to make a landing on it.  
  
"We're all fighting together again," Cage observed as he loaded his pistols. "It's almost like old times." Piastol nodded. It was exactly like old times.  
  
Piastol was the first person off the Dragonfly when it docked. Two guards charged her and were quickly sent to the afterlife by her scythe. All around her, the sounds of battle filled the air as the Red Sands finally found out what it felt like to be attacked while defenseless.  
  
But the lesson they were learning was of little importance. Piastol wanted to find Zahn. She charged off into the base's interior, searching from room to room for anyone who looked like a pirate captain. Eventually, she saw that Stryker and Cage were following her, watching her back and helping her with the guards. People who cared about her...  
  
A long series of shots erupted into the air in succession so rapid Piastol thought that it had to have come from at least a dozen guns. The wall next to her was torn apart by bullets, prompting her to take cover behind a nearby stack of crates. Cage and Stryker joined her seconds later, cursing Valuan technology in general.  
  
"I've heard about that thing," Stryker growled. "It's an automatic field gun; the moonsdamn Valies developed it a few years back. Fires eleven bullets a second; a real nasty piece of work."  
  
Piastol chanced a look around a crate's corner to get a look at the weapon she was facing. It looked like someone had attached a number of small gun barrels to a cylinder on a tripod and fixed a belt of bullets to the back, where a pirate and who appeared to be his boss operated it. The crate that was her shield took a burst of fire, and she resumed hiding.  
  
"It does not seem to be very accurate," Piastol commented. "And I think that might be Zahn over there."  
  
"What?" Stryker took a quick glance at the enemy before being driven back into hiding by gunfire. "Shit. Yeah, that's him all right. Never thought he'd hide behind anything, especially something the Valies built. You're right, it doesn't look to accurate. But we'll need some kind of a plan--"  
  
"Cover me," Piastol snapped at Cage, and dove around the corner. Unable to stop her, Cage could only do as he was told, and gave the pirates a taste of his twin pistols. The pirate doing the aiming took a hit dead in the chest, falling over backwards and sending the bullets into the ceiling. Stryker wasted no time in chasing after Piastol, and Cage followed him.  
  
Zahn, seeing the girl with the scythe making a beeline for him, panicked and ran through a door, locking it behind him. Piastol screamed in rage and kicked against the door, failing to persuade it to open. Stryker placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Allow me," he said, and crashed his metal fist into the doorknob, freeing the door from its locking mechanism. The door led into a hallway with at least a dozen other doors, any one of which could be a hiding place for the warlord. Without wasting a moment, the three companions started scouring the place.  
  
~~~~  
  
Esteban's sword arm was getting tired from all of the fighting, which by the way was total chaos. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but it looked like a dungeon of some sort, what with all the cells and iron-bar doors.  
  
"Please, help me!" a voice shouted from one of the cells. The young noble looked inside to see a half-starved redheaded girl, dressed only in a tattered and dirty white dress. "You came to rescue me, right?" she implored.  
  
"Yeah, no problem," Esteban told her with a reassuring smile. "Hold on, miss, I'll have you out of there in no time. Just let me find the key--"  
  
"Look out!" she screamed, but too late to warn Esteban of the pirate sneaking up behind him with a knife. The pain was something to write home about, but Esteban took his mind off it and ran his attacker through in retaliation. "That's the guard," the girl explained. "He's got the keys somewhere on him."  
  
"Okay, I found them... holy shit, my back..." The wounded Esteban jammed keys into the cell's lock at random until he found one that fit. The girl opened the door herself and caught the noble in her arms as he collapsed from pain. "Thank you," he grunted, and looked up into her eyes. She was actually rather pretty...  
  
"Are you all right?" the girl squealed.  
  
"Uh, actually, the wound is very bad," the young noble replied. "But don't you worry; I've been in worse scrapes before."  
  
"Hey, Esteban!" Rico's voice called from behind him. He was accompanied by no less than four raiders as he ran into the dungeon.  
  
"He's hurt!" the girl said in a worried voice.  
  
"What? Let me see that... Oh, that's nothing," Rico insisted. "Just a flesh wound--"  
  
"Shut up," Esteban hissed, and returned his attention to the newly freed prisoner. "So, my name's Esteban; what's yours?"  
  
~~~~  
  
Piastol growled with growing fury as yet another room turned out to be empty. Zahn had to be here somewhere; he couldn't keep kidding forever. Shouts broke out from somewhere; one of the voices belonged to Stryker and the other was unfamiliar--Zahn!  
  
Cage joined Piastol as they met up in the hallway and followed the sound of the shouting to an office where Stryker was holding the warlord by his neck against the wall and giving him an earful.  
  
"What happened to you, Zahn!? You used to be a good man!"  
  
"I did what I had to do, Stryker," Zahn retorted. "That's all I ever did. You know how hard it is make a living in the sky these days. You're telling me you haven't bent any rules in your life?"  
  
"Don't try to lecture me on morals, you son of a bitch. I'm not the one who burned Maramba to the ground and tried to destroy Nasrad!"  
  
Zahn started to chuckle. "What are you going to do about it, huh? Are you going to kill me? I know you won't. And don't think you can stop me by turning me in to the Nasrean government. I still have friends, Stryker. Like friends who have broken people out of jail on more than one occasion. Friends who know how Moon Stone Cannons work. You can't stop me; I'll just keep coming back."  
  
"Enough!" Piastol broke in. "Stryker, just kill him and be done with it!"  
  
"Stay out of this!" Stryker barked. He turned his head towards her, and for a split second his attention was not fixed on Zahn. A split second was all the warlord needed. A small shot rang out, and Stryker collapsed onto the floor clutching his side. Zahn threw open a door disguised as a bookcase and avoided Cage's bullet by a hair. In the blink of an eye he was gone.  
  
"Shit," Stryker growled. "Asshole got me with some little sissy gun."  
  
Cage cursed. "Piastol, I'll look after Stryker. You make sure Zahn doesn't escape!"  
  
"Right."  
  
"I don't need to be frigging looked after," Stryker was grumbling as Piastol chased the warlord through the secret passage. She had been looking forward to this moment, the moment when she would exact her revenge.  
  
The passage led to a hidden port that housed a single lifeboat, which Zahn was hurriedly preparing for launch. His efforts were futile, however, as he would never be able to get it out the door before Piastol caught him. Looking behind him to behold the Angel of Death, he realized this and decided to take a chance. The gun he used on Stryker could only hold one shot, which had already been used. He grabbed a short sword from out of the lifeboat and charged his pursuer with a howl of fury.  
  
Piastol had been trained to fight pirates and was well aware of their tactics. She blocked a horizontal slice and countered with a spinning kick across Zahn's face. The warlord stumbled back, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and Piastol before she could strike another blow. He lunged at his opponent in a desperate stab, which Piastol parried easily and countered with a blow to the stomach with the butt end of her scythe. She brought the blade in a downward arc, but Zahn ducked and rolled to barely dodge it.  
  
The combatants now stood just outside the reach of the other's weapon. It was clear that Piastol held the advantage. There was a time when Zahn would have welcomed such a challenging fight, but the years had changed him. He circled Piastol carefully, making sure that he stayed out of the reach of her scythe. Piastol kept proper footing, waiting for Zahn to make a mistake. Circling a skilled opponent was difficult, and if the warlord made a wrong step, it would be the perfect opening to strike.  
  
Zahn made a mistake. His foot slipped and Piastol lunged, knocking him off balance and swinging her scythe for the killing blow. The warlord blocked awkwardly, but Piastol performed a quick flick with the scythe and sent the short sword flying across the floor. A kick to Zahn's midsection sent him sprawling against the wall. Totally defenseless, the warlord could only watch what happened next. Slowly, inch by menacing inch, Piastol raised her scythe, savoring the moment just before the kill... 


	18. In Requiem

This was it. One final blow, and so many innocent lives would be avenged. Oh how the mighty had fallen; the warlord feared by an entire nation was cowering on the floor before the Angel of Death, too overwhelmed by fear and panic to even beg for mercy. Jacob would have wanted this... wouldn't he?  
  
In all the time Piastol had known him, Jacob never seemed to have revenge on his mind. When the time came for her to choose her position aboard the Old Glory, he seemed to know what she would say, but there was a sadness to his demeanor. Jacob never wanted his adopted daughter to spend her life in sorrow and despair; he wanted her to move on from her loss and find happiness.  
  
Yet Piastol had not found happiness; not in Nasr fighting against the Red Sands. The image of the pirate ship lured to its destruction in that canyon appeared, and with it came the unnerving feeling she received from watching so many lives end at once. She was the one responsible for those deaths, for stopping those pirates from ever hurting anyone again.  
  
But who was she to talk of stopping people from hurting others? She left the clinic ship to fight against nearly impossible odds, taking away the only sister Maria had. The tears on the little girl's face spoke volumes about the pain she suffered and the betrayal she felt. Her sister had simply disappeared without warning into the night, leaving only a note and memory. How dared she.  
  
Who was at fault here, anyway? Zahn had been the one to send those ships to Maramba, to turn the defenseless town into a nightmare of fire and blood and terror. That poor man Rafik had been forced to watch helplessly as his home was raped and ravaged without provocation. The memory of that night would haunt Piastol forever: the woman screaming for her children, the dead girl in the alley, the toddler crying out for his mother and father...  
  
Father. The word resurrected all kinds of painful memories, from watching Jacob crash his ship into the Moon Stone Cannon, to the night when Ramirez killed Piastol's father; but most potently it returned the image of that day in the storm, when a little girl ran through the rain to be by her dying father, who had been slain by the Angel of Death herself. That girl had deserved to keep her father.  
  
No matter how much she deserved it, though, the fact remained that her father was a thief and a murderer. With him gone, the water ships he terrorized could finally deliver their precious cargo in peace. Stryker had been right on that night he took Piastol to the opera: the skies had been safer because of her.  
  
But did the ends truly justify the means? Piastol's life as the Angel of Death had been one long nightmare; her only desire had been to do to pirates what she had believed pirates had done to her family. There was never anything but violence, violence of which Maria had been totally unaware until recently. All Maria had known was loneliness and peace. Like the peace that pervaded her choir's practice room, the place Piastol loved so much to visit. She had been longing for that peace for so many years, and if she killed Zahn she might never be able to go back there.  
  
But Zahn was a monster! How could she let him live and still keep a clean conscience?  
  
He may be a monster, a voice in her head said. And he almost certainly deserves to die. But what gives you the right to carry out that sentence?  
  
Piastol smashed the butt end of her scythe between Zahn's eyes. The warlord fell limp against the floor, out cold. Piastol let the scythe clatter to the ground, never to be raised again. Cage and Stryker appeared out of the doorway that led to the other room.  
  
"Did you kill him?" Cage asked.  
  
"No," was Piastol's reply. "He is just unconscious."  
  
Stryker placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"You did the right thing," he told her.  
  
"I know," she said weakly. Her leg and stomach started to ache. Crystals were, after all, only a quick fix--she would have to see Doc to be fully treated. Assuming he and Maria would take her back.  
  
"We should get Zahn back to the ship," Cage stated. "Diego and the others have probably cleaned up the rest of the base by now, so we shouldn't have any problems getting out of here."  
  
And so the three friends carried the beaten warlord back to Nasrad to face his punishment at the hands of the Sovereignty Council.  
  
~~~~  
  
When a ferryman came into port shouting about the bounty hunters, a crowd gathered. Doc and Maria were in that crowd, straining to hear what was going on.  
  
"The bounty hunters are returning!" someone exclaimed. "They must have captured Zahn!" determined another. Celebrations broke out in the city as the people learned of the event. Doc and Maria, however, were not cheering. All that mattered to them was Piastol's survival and safe return.  
  
Three of the four ships docked, the white Valuan battleship receiving the least amount of attention (as Diego expected). Everyone wanted to see the man who had transformed their country into a nightmare beaten and in chains. They had little luck; the first three ships did not carry him. Instead, their crews made a path through the crowd, keeping people at bay.  
  
Then the fourth ship docked. This crew, too, helped keep the crowd back, trying to make sure their quarry reached his destination in one piece. A huge man with a mechanical forearm appeared, roughly shoving a smaller man clapped in irons before him. No one needed anyone to tell them who the man in irons was: it could only be Zahn. All at once the people began baying for his blood and mocking him with all kinds of insults, be they clever or not.  
  
Piastol was nowhere in sight. She was not among the bounty hunters keeping the crowd under control and Doc hadn't seen her aboard any of the other ships. There were still a few people on the fourth ship; maybe she was there...  
  
And then she stepped off the fourth ship, wearing a pale green shirt (her other one must have been ruined somehow, Doc decided) and talking with one of the bounty hunters. While Doc's heart started beating again, Maria started calling out to her sister, jumping up and down to make herself more visible. Piastol saw her sure enough, and came over to greet her friends with tears of joy in her eyes. The crowd controllers kept them apart, but they could still make out each other's words.  
  
"You're okay! You're okay!" Maria squealed. The scene began to move toward the capitol. Piastol, unable to break through the crowd handlers, was swept away by the current of bodies.  
  
"I'll meet you later!" she assured them, and was lost from sight.  
  
"She made it," Maria said through her tears.  
  
"Yeah," Doc responded. "She really made it."  
  
~~~~  
  
The view from the lookout tower was extraordinary. This city of Nasrad, which had endured so much over the years, had survived. It would thrive now; people were returning literally by the boatload. Life would be back to normal by the end of next week.  
  
"Thought I'd find you here," a deep voice said behind her. Stryker came over next to her and gazed out onto the horizon with her.  
  
"What will happen to Zahn?" Piastol inquired.  
  
"Oh, there'll be a trial--a real quick one. Then Zahn will be executed. He'll be dead by the next lunar cycle." There was silence for a time.  
  
"They say there will be a memorial service for those who died in the straight," Piastol remarked.  
  
"Yep," Stryker confirmed. "It's the least they can do, considering they all died for free. Which reminds me--here." He pulled out a heavy leather pouch and handed it to his friend.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"It's your share of the reward. After the incident at Maramba, the government put a price on Zahn's head. Too bad we didn't know about it before."  
  
"How high was the price?"  
  
"One million."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh yeah. You should have seen the looks on the faces of the councilmen when they found out Diego was collecting the bounty. The old son-of-a- bitch was grinning ear to ear."  
  
Piastol did some quick math in her head and said, "Then your share would be..."  
  
"Enough to save my business, fix up the Dragonfly, and afford some half- decent food," Stryker finished for her. "Might even be able to get that harpoon cannon."  
  
"I see. So will you do all that now?"  
  
"Later, probably. As soon as I get out of here, I'm going to go have a 'talk' with Vyse about Zahn's Moon Stone Cannon."  
  
"Don't hurt him too badly."  
  
"I won't," Stryker promised, although from the tone of his voice it sounded like he wanted to do otherwise.  
  
Piastol nodded, and looked down and the bustling marketplace. Esteban was strolling through, chatting with the girl he had rescued from Zahn's base. That girl had been through so much hardship and lost so much of her innocence. But hopefully, with Esteban's help, she would stay off the path Piastol had walked for seven long years.  
  
"Stryker," she said.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"When we found Zahn, and I told you to just kill him, you told me to stay out of it. Why?"  
  
The big man sighed and thought for a moment. He always did hate opening up to people. Finally, he gave an answer.  
  
"For six years I watched you suffer, ignoring anyone's help or concern or thoughtfulness. Then when I met you again on Sailor's Island, I saw what you could have been if all that bad hadn't happened to you. And if we killed Zahn--if you were part of his killing--then you'd go back to that part of your life." He looked into her eyes as he spoke the last words with the utmost sincerity: "And I couldn't let that happen to you; I couldn't."  
  
Piastol was speechless. She didn't know what to say. What COULD she say?  
  
"See you around," Stryker told her. "Stay out of trouble." He made his way toward the stairs.  
  
"Wait," Piastol interjected. Her friend turned around. "Stryker... Thank you."  
  
"No problem," he replied with a smile. He trotted down the stairs. Piastol returned her gaze to the distant horizon. Stryker was gruff, pugilistic, and almost humorless, but underneath it all, he really was a good man. He had been there for her all the time, watching her and protecting her from herself. Before she knew what she was doing, Piastol was going down the stairs after him.  
  
She burst out the door at the bottom and stumbled into the busy street. Scanning the marketplace, she found Stryker reuniting with Cage and the rest of the crew. They slapped their hands together and rejoiced at the small fortune they had made in the battle against the Red Sands. Stryker would soon be out in the vast skies of the world, hunting down fugitives and pirates. Where he belonged. Piastol let him go, and in a few moments he was gone from sight.  
  
She met Doc and Maria after half an hour of searching. No words were exchanged at first, they just hugged and cried. Maria was the first to speak.  
  
"Let's go home," she suggested, and Piastol and Doc agreed that was a good idea. They headed toward the harbor, but were stopped by a voice shouting to them. Piastol turned to it and stopped in her tracks. It couldn't be...  
  
"Rafik?"  
  
"Miss Piastol!" the engineer greeted, and trotted over to them. "How have you been? I have been looking all over for you since I heard the bounty hunters returned!"  
  
"That's nice of you, but why?"  
  
"Why else? To congratulate you!"  
  
Piastol shook her head.  
  
"I don't deserve any congratulations, Rafik," she insisted.  
  
"Oh, don't be silly. You're the one who captured Zahn! You saved Nasr!"  
  
"I wasn't the only one. A lot of good people died to stop him."  
  
"That doesn't mean you did nothing. Do you remember what I told you on the trip to Maramba?" was Rafik's answer.  
  
Piastol said that she did.  
  
"Well," he continued, "when you came here, word got around about your story. Forgive me, but I can be somewhat gossiping. Anyway, when people heard that you captured Zahn, a group of school children heard about your boat's name, and well, one thing led to another. The point is, the children left you a present; it's at your boat."  
  
"What kind of present?" Piastol asked.  
  
"You'll see." Rafik looked at the sun. "Oh I'm so sorry, but I really must be going. I was sent to get provisions for my ship. I'll see you again someday, and may the Red Moon be with you!" He hurried off, leaving Piastol, Doc, and Maria very confused.  
  
"What was he talking about?" Maria wondered.  
  
"I'm not sure," Piastol answered. "Let's find out."  
  
The harbor was regaining some of its old bustle when the trio arrived. Piastol's boat, left behind when the Old Glory went off to its death, was sitting at a dock on the north part of the harbor. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about it; there were no new boxes or other items on deck.  
  
"I thought he said they left a present," said Doc, confused. The he saw Piastol looking at the hull with tears in her eyes. "Piastol?" Doc and Maria walked over to her to get a better view and saw what she saw. Part of the paint covering the boat's name had been scratched off, revealing only a single word:  
  
Angel.  
  
~THE END~ 


End file.
